If You Come With Me - Hades and Persephone
by fountainofstarlight
Summary: A Hades and Persephone Story. Loneliness comes in many forms. So when the cold and dark Hades falls in love with beautiful, innocent Persephone, can they find the solution to their loneliness? Or will they fall prey to the wrath of Demeter?
1. Lord of the Underworld

**Hi. Welcome to my attempt at the epic story of Hades and Persephone. This is my first story published here, so please review! :)**

The story is available for purchase for Kindle on Amazon under the name "By Immortal Souls" by Starlight Fountain, but you can still read the whole story here.

So I'll stop blethering, and you can read it now.

* * *

There is no sunshine in the Underworld.

There are no stars.

There is no day, and no night.

Time means nothing to the gods, but those who live above ground are at least conscious of the altering of the seasons and the constant shifting of days into nights. Down in the realm of the Dead, the realm of Lord Hades, time is measured with difficulty, and without a timepiece one would become oblivious to the elusive passage of time.

Lord Hades, sitting upon his dark throne, also cared nothing for time. It was useful for scheduling meetings, and for deciding when to hold court, but apart from these uses time was just a hindrance. It droned on and on, and every measured day was similar and lacking in variety.

Hades sat and regarded the demi-god before him. An Asian man. One who would not have believed in the gods if his father was not one of them. Given the man's sharp eyes and his light hair, Hades guessed he was a son of Apollo, or Hermes. Not that it mattered especially.

"My lord…"

The demigod's voice was desperate, as were his mannerisms. The man had faced all the perils of the Underworld and survived, and hence had earned the right to an audience. His armour was rent, and his face was gouged by claws. No pity rose in Hades' cold heart. He had seen too many pitiful things to be touched by this one.

Around the enormous pillars and fire-pits of Hades' audience chamber were gathered the gods and goddesses of his court. Each was dressed in dark finery, and many were as misshaped as the things they presided over. Near Hades' throne was Thanatos, God of Death, an advisor and reasonably trusted companion. Among the gathered crowd, the Lord of the Underworld noticed Hypnos, God of Sleep; Momus, God of Blame; Oizys, God of Distress. Each watched silently and emotionlessly. A wild-haired goddess, Eris, knelt on the smooth tiled floor, chanting softly to herself. Her clothes were spider's webs, and her eyes were blood. Three vengeful sisters, the Furies, whispered and cackled at the supplicants who came before their lord. Their eyes were fire and they seemed more like beasts than goddesses, with long spindly fingers and hunched backs. Indeed, there were many beasts there as well at the back of the hall. Centaurs paced and snorted, gorgons watched with vicious eyes and harpies perched up on the balconies above.

The audience chamber itself was like most of Hades' palace. It was dimly lit, with little decoration save tall grey statues of the residing gods and goddesses of the Underworld. A faint, musty odour of damp filled the air. Black banners depicting Hades' curling symbol of death hung from the walls.

"My lord Hades," pleaded the demi-god, with a brave, fearful expression. "Give me back my love. Without her, my life means nothing. I will do anything you ask."

Hades did not hesitate.

"Your bravery and courage I commend," he said in a powerful deep tenor. "To come so far, you do your love credit. But I will not return her to the realm of the living. No soul leaves the Underworld without another taking its place."

There was a murmur of agreement from the sinister members of court. The demi-god glanced around in fear, then back at Hades, the implications of what he had said sinking in.

"But we have a child."

"Then your child is without both parents now. Return to your life, and forget the dead."

"Mercy, my lord! You cannot understand my suffering!"

"No?" Hades said coldly. "I have been lord of the dead for over four thousand years and I have never failed to carry out my task. Do not presume to think that I do not understand your pain. I have seen it too often not to."

The cackling of the Furies made the demi-god shudder.

"I would rather die than be without her," he insisted.

"Truly? Then by all means die, and join her in the Fields of Asphodel where her soul now languishes. But know this; the souls of the dead do not know each other. You will continue to mourn her for eternity, not aware if she were right next to you."

Hades watched the man's face crumble. He began to weep uncontrollably, and the Lord of the Underworld gestured for two of the veiled Shades to remove him from the hall. The gathered gods and goddesses watched him be dragged out, wailing his love's name. Eris began to sob, but she was ignored. The goddess of Strife mourned for everyone, no matter what. The Furies crowed and laughed.

Odious creatures, thought Hades.

The lord of the Underworld was a tall, undeniable presence. His garb was the colour of shadows and night. He wore a thick black cloak fastened with a golden chain; the only bright colour in his ensemble. A jewelled sword hung at his side, but his robes were plain, hinting at his generally ascetic lifestyle. His time in the Underworld had made Hades harsh and cold. Strong features conveyed no strong emotion, and his expression was full of cheerless brooding. There was a sunken appearance to his dark eyes, and he had high cheekbones and thick brows. Greasy midnight hair covered his head, and his jaw was unshaven. His entire demeanour spoke of one whose cares were many and whose pleasures were few and self-denied.

Thanatos, a short, misshapen god with green-tinted skin and a clean-shaven face, cleared his throat at the foot of the throne. His considerable girth meant turning to see his overlord was a challenge.

"Will you ensure that one is escorted out?" he asked. Out, meaning above ground.

Hades pursed his cracked, pale lips.

"He does not seem to want to return to the living," he muttered grimly. "But yes, he will be escorted out."

The tediousness of listening to supplicants wore on him. Each wanted the same thing; "mercy". "Mercy" for those who had already crossed the Styx, as if returning souls to life would be a gift. Lovers came seeking their lost sweethearts, mothers came seeking their children, and sons came seeking their fathers. All left empty-handed or not at all. Here, "mercy" was a luxury.

Just then there was a stillness, and Hades, having seen the cause, sat up straight.

Approaching his throne were three unlikely creatures. Three goddesses clothed in brown robes and gossamer veils. Their skeletal hands were callused from their spinning of the destinies of all people, because they were the Fates. The power of these wizened crones had no bounds. Hades rose to his feet in respect.

"Moirai," he said, inclining his head and using their proper name. "What brings you to my palace?"

The Fates came forward, their serious gaze not leaving his face. The eldest, Atropos, approached ahead of her sisters.

"Unyielding Hades," she wheezed loudly, "You must go to Olympus."

There was a brief silence, filled only with crackling flames and the scratching of harpy claws from above. Then Hades laughed coldly, and shook his head in exasperation. Several onlookers hesitantly joined in his laughter.

"Why should I wish to journey above?" Hades chuckled without feeling. "I have not been in my brother's realm for a hundred years."

"A daughter has been born to your sister Demeter through the mighty Zeus," Atropos explained, "and there is much celebration."

"Demeter has many daughters," Hades sighed. "I have more nieces than I could count in an age. Tell me, crones, why should I care more for this infant than any of the others?"

The Fates smiled with yellowed teeth and blackened gums, unpleasantly knowing more about him and his future than he did himself.

"Go," said one. "You shall see."

"I do not enjoy your riddles, Moirai," Hades informed them, frustrated that they knew more than they were letting on.

"My lord, value our advice," urged Atropos.

Hades regarded them, ignoring the hushed comments of the gathered court. If anyone here was ancient, then the Fates were truly so. Their work was endless and taxing. For them to leave their spinning and weaving of destiny even for a short time meant their purpose was very important. He weighed up the options. Either ignore them, and possibly cause untold doom, or go to Olympus, and suffer the horrors of a birth celebration.

"…I will go," he consented finally, "out of the wisdom which teaches me that your words are measured carefully."

The Fates nodded, pleased, and without a word they turned to leave. Hades had the disturbing feeling that his destiny had just been thrown out before him and he had little choice but to follow its unseen path.


	2. The Name Unspoken

Olympus was full of sound and light.

The beauty of the God's Meeting Place cannot be expressed in mere words. No mortal has ever been there and returned, so the mortals instead could only imagine the splendour of the temple on the peak of Mount Olympus. By the power of the gods, the temple remained standing, and the storms did not touch it. The sun was never too warm, the snow was never cold, and the rain only fell when the garden needed watered. The walls and the pillars were purest white, and everything was lavish and elegant. Celebrations for Demeter's new-born daughter were in full sway. Zeus, King of the Gods and the overlord of Olympus and the mortal realm, had invited all of the gods to enjoy the revelries. Fireworks danced in the sky, tables were laden with feasts of succulent food taken as sacrifices from the mortals. Nectar and wine ran like water, and the gods and goddesses of Olympus paid homage to the gurgling red-haired child in Demeter's arms

The Goddess of Agriculture was sitting in the centre of the largest hall in Olympus, the centre of attention. Demeter looked radiant. Her cheeks were flushed with warmth and happiness, and her blonde curls were loose and cascading down to her waist. Flowers and jewels adorned her mantle and encircled her waist. Zeus stood not far away, drinking heavily and boasting of his recent victory in some war or other. Hera, his queen, looked furiously towards either Demeter or Zeus from time to time. Her jealousy and disgust was evident. But Demeter was unconcerned. She cared only for the beautiful baby girl in her arms. Gods and goddesses came, offering gifts and praise. Poseidon blessed her with wisdom, Athena offered her a foal of Pegasus, and the Graces presented her with many fine silk dresses. Their words and gifts were hollow to Demeter.

The girl's deep green eyes gazed curiously up at her mother, and Demeter crooned to her.

"My darling," she whispered. "My sweet flower."

A disturbance at the back of the hall made her look up. The crowd was drawing back from the door, and after they did she saw why.

Hades was there.

It had been longer than she could count since she had last seen her older brother. He seemed just as out of place as he had the last time, bringing with him a dark aura of death and despair. Understandable, coming from the Underworld. It was the same with Poseidon and his ilk; he always smelt so strongly of salt and fish that it knocked people backwards.

Demeter had no fear of her brother, but the same could not be said of most of the gods of Olympus. Rumours went around that Hades enjoyed the torture of mortal children and ate the flesh of small animals while they still lived. Of course, that was probably not true. Probably.

Zeus raised a glass of wine. Time means nothing to the gods, and Zeus was quick to get over Hades' appearance after so long.

"Brother! What brings your pale face to our banquet?" he boomed.

Hades' voice was like ice in comparison.

"Is it so odd that I should wish to see my sister's child?" he asked, his eyes scanning the crowd and finding Demeter.

"For you, yes," Zeus chuckled, "but I will not prevent you from doing so."

The King of the Gods looked around himself.

"What is everyone staring so dumbly at?" he roared. "Get on with your feasting!"

The gods and goddesses were happy enough to do so, but the atmosphere was muted, and Hades received mostly suspicious or fearful stares as he made his way towards Demeter. Some bowed or gave the odd word of respect, but Hades ignored it all. He reached Demeter, and gracefully fell onto one knee. His black cloak pooled onto the white floor, and he kissed her outstretched hand.

"Brother," she greeted him coolly.

"Sister," Hades said, watching the wriggling child in her arms. "Congratulations. I assume this is the child I have heard so much about."

The baby girl reached out a pudgy hand towards Hades. He looked into her innocent emerald gaze, and marvelled at the way she looked at him. No fear. Hesitantly, he held out his hand, and the baby clasped her tiny fist around one cold finger. Demeter smiled, feeling peculiar.

"Although I doubt this is your only reason for coming here, brother," she said formally, "I appreciate your presence."

"Oh, I know you do not appreciate my presence, Demeter," Hades muttered. She shrugged.

"You are a wiser god than most of these stone-brained morons, then..."

Her baby was still clutching Hades' finger. Demeter awkwardly moved the girl closer, hence pulling her away from the Lord of the Underworld. She kissed the top of her head. Hades found himself staring at the baby.

 _Persephone…_

Demeter looked thoughtful. "I'm going to name her -"

"…Persephone."

Hades finished her sentence before she did, and Demeter frowned at him.

"How did you know?" she asked, surprised. "I've told no-one that I've decided on a name."

"I do not know," Hades murmured. "Intuition, I suppose."

Shaking away a bizarre sense of importance, he reached into his cloak. From his pocket, he brought out a small golden branch, and offered it to her.

"A sprig cut from the Golden Elm," he explained. "It will grant anyone safe passage into the Underworld across the River Styx. A more practical gift than most of what you have been given already, I am sure."

Demeter thanked him, and Hades got up to leave her. He thought of the Fates' cryptic instructions. Why was it important that he saw that child? What did this mean?

 _Persephone…_

Although her name seemed to mean something, Hades could not figure out what. The lights of Olympus were hurting his eyes, and he had seen enough. Whatever was meant by this meeting, it was not to be revealed that night.

* * *

Out on a balcony some time later, Demeter rocked Persephone gently. She sighed long, and looked out into the snow-topped peaks of the mountains. The snow sparkled majestically with the pale light of sunrise. However, there was no green. No life. This was not where she belonged. Not where Persephone belonged.

"My temple is surrounded by beautiful gardens," she whispered. "There are nymphs and dryads and so many flowers. You'll love it there, my rose. We'll be safe there."

She glanced behind at the beautiful walls of Olympus. It was deceptive beauty, hiding the corruption and greed of those within.

"I'll keep you safe from them," she hissed, clutching Persephone tight. "You'll be safe. Very safe."

* * *

Deep below the surface of the world some time later, Hades reclined in his palace, and gazed emptily at the ceiling. His mind was full of strings and fragments of musings. Something felt different. The pattern of his thoughts was an unwelcome change from his usual dark broodings.

Heavy footsteps informed him of another presence. Thanatos sat not far away.

"How dark must your thoughts be, my lord Hades," the God of the Dead commented, "to make you stare for so long at the ceiling?"

"What care you for my thoughts, Thanatos?" Hades asked, icy as always.

"It is a long and tedious existence for us immortals," Thanatos sighed, strangely melancholy. "One can become bored of one's own thoughts, and wish to think on another's."

"I have no wish to burden you with mine."

Hades, seeking peace, got up and strode out of the palace, into the endless darkness of the Underworld. Beyond the torchlight on the walls and the eerie glow of the rivers, there was just black.

And he thought of his niece.


	3. Child Gone

**Hello. This is the third installation of "If You Come With Me", and thank you so much for reviewing the first two chapters! You guys are too kind. Anyway, I'd also like to thank** **Puistopulu from deviantart for the cover image of this story. It was too beautiful to resist using :)**

 **Enjoy...**

* * *

 **Eighteen years later…**

A swallow flew through the warm summer air. Its wings fluttered over farms in Sicily, with tiny people tending the land. Livestock grazed peacefully and crops were warmed by a golden sun. The sky was grazed by cotton clouds and the hills were thriving with life.

Past the farms, and up a lush hill, there was a dense forest. Within this, in the centre of a lavish garden, lay Demeter's temple. The mortals came to her with offerings to make their crops grow. The Goddess of Agriculture was there as often as not, but the gardens were always full of beauty and light, because there lived many nymphs and dryads. Water-spirits lived in the water, and the entire garden hummed with the energy and power of nature. Although the flowers were magnificent throughout the garden, they were always the brightest and smelt the most fragrant at the feet of Persephone.

Time means nothing to the gods. Years come and go, and they notice not the difference between one and the next.

Not, however, when one is young, as Persephone was.

In eighteen years, the Goddess of Spring had grown and turned into a beautiful young woman. The redness of her hair was as vivid as a rose, and her eyes sparkled like jewels. Persephone's laugh was musical and her singing would cause all the birds of the land to join in. Her beauty outshone any spirit in the garden, and indeed most goddesses in Olympus. She spent her days surrounded by dryads and nymphs, enjoying the simple pleasures of warm days and gentle nights.

Persephone lifted her pretty face to see the swallow flutter past, and then turned her head back to the painting she was making. It was the same as all of her paintings, because she had known no different; a beautiful garden, and within it a lonely girl.

The brook next to her babbled gently, and the scent of honeysuckle filled her nose. A young water-spirit was making a daisy chain nearby, and a dryad with dark brown skin and hair was humming a tune. Persephone moved her bare toes through the warm grass, and felt the warm breeze on her shoulders. She was wearing a green summer dress which shimmered with every step. Holding up the painting, she sighed. The water-spirit, whose name she had forgotten, gasped.

"So beautiful, my lady," she said.

"Hmm," Persephone said non-committedly, knowing full well that her attendants would say a smear of mud on a canvas was good if only to gain her favour.

"PERSEPHONE!"

The sound of her mother's call drew the young goddess to her feet. She shouted a reply, and ignoring her attendants, raced towards the temple. It was a stone structure, adorned with ivy and flowers, and at the top of the stairs into its warm, bright interior was Demeter. Looking very serious.

"My flower, come in quickly. It is almost time for us to depart."

Persephone felt her stomach fill with anxiety.

"When?" she asked.

"Within the hour. Come. I've brought you a new gown."

Demeter led her daughter into her dressing room, where a beautiful dress embroidered with little leaves lay across a chair. Persephone lifted it up, examining the blue-green fabric.

"Thank you, mother," she said, attempting a smile and failing. "It's beautiful."

Demeter stood in front of the full-length mirror which occupied one of the walls, appraising her own appearance. A dress the colour of moss on a rock fell over her shapely body. Thousands of years had barely had an impact on Demeter's beauty, nor was more time likely to do so.

"Brush your hair, my darling. Make it look pretty."

Persephone half-heartedly picked up a comb and removed the flowers from her red curls. She sat on the chair, slumping into its frame. Demeter took the comb off her after a few moments, and began tugging out the tangles. Their eyes met in the mirror; the soft brown of Demeter's and the fierce green of her daughter's.

"You seem so sad, Persephone," Demeter commented, stroking her hair. "What is wrong?"

The girl glanced away.

"I'm not looking forward to this meeting," she explained, not entirely lying.

"Nor should you. I am sorry I must bring you along."

The meeting in question was one that the Olympians were now summoned to by the great Zeus. The gathering happily coincided with the tail end of revelries after the birth of his son, Herphaestus. Demeter was attending, and Persephone, now old enough to be considered a fully-fledged goddess, needed to at least show her face in Olympus. The young Goddess of Spring was nervous, unsure whether to look forward to seeing the famed Meeting Place or to dread the prospect of being stared at by so many gods.

"Stay close to me at all times, my flower. I have told you some of the stories about these people. They are cruel, lecherous and think of only themselves and their own desires. Your father especially. We will enter, we will stay for two days alone, and then we will leave."

Demeter had always told Persephone to be careful of gods; to fear the outside world beyond the confines of their garden.

"Why do you mistrust them so, Mother?" Persephone asked, twirling the edge of her skirt around her fingers, being careful to make the question sound innocent. If her mother thought she was being insolent it could lead to her being locked away in her room for days on end.

"Because I have lived long enough to know what they truly are, my sweet."

"What are they?"

"Thieves. Rapists. Murderers. They take what they want from the world and care nothing for their subjects."

"But surely they are not all that way."

Demeter stopped brushing her hair, and again their eyes met in the mirror. Persephone knew she was going too far, but for once did not drop her gaze. She was no longer a child, and her mother had to see that.

"You are young and naïve, my flower," her mother sighed, and her age showed briefly in her face. "One day you might understand, but I would prefer you never did. To understand tyranny, one has to suffer at the hands of tyrants, and I will never let that happen."

Demeter kissed her, and then patted her shoulders.

"Don't worry, Persephone. Nothing bad will happen at this meeting. Now put on your gown and we'll get this over with."

With a flounce of material, Demeter left her daughter alone with her own reflection. Persephone glared at herself. Aside from the meeting, she knew she was always miserable. Perhaps she felt restless, or perhaps she had just outgrown dancing and singing in her mother's gardens. Perhaps she needed to see what other goddesses did with their time. Persephone dressed quietly, silently thinking about her lovingly enforced captivity.

The frustration had been easy to deal with as a child. Demeter was her mother, and she loved her with all her heart. But as Persephone had grown, Demeter didn't just stop anything bad happening her, she stopped anything good happening as well. Persephone wished for some kind of excitement. Anything to break the delightful monotony of her idyllic life.

The only thing keeping her going was the thought that her mother could not control her forever.

Dressed, Persephone looked at herself. The dress brought out the sparkle of her sad eyes, but it looked like it was made for a child. It did nothing for her figure, and the frills along the bottom were not to her taste. Knowing her mother would only be upset if she wore something else, Persephone shrugged, sighed and chose to simply put up with it. She walked over to her jewellery cupboard and randomly pulled out a gold chain.

Out in the hallway, Demeter offered her a supportive smile.

"Let's go, sweet one."


	4. Meeting at Olympus

**Hello. Things are about to get more interesting, so bear with me for the next few chapters if you're looking forward to more action. I've been writing a lot recently, so I'm going to be updating quite regularly.**

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A flying chariot pulled by giant swans took Demeter and Persephone to Olympus that day. The white temple was breath-taking from a distance, and even more so at close proximity. Having been there all too often, Demeter showed little interest, but Persephone had to prevent her mouth from hanging open as the chariot pulled near. Olympus was perched on the peak of its mountain, balanced by unknown forces. Marble columns reflected the light of a glaring sun, and gold plating glimmered like it was composed of molten metal. Regal statues of the gods stood guard over the enormous stone steps into the temple.

The chariot drew up to the bottom of these steps, below which was a sheer drop to nothingness. Demeter slipped her hand into Persephone's, and led her daughter onto the steps. The young goddess' feet were bare, like her mother's, and the stone stairs were refreshingly cold. She shivered. Anxiety was a drug in her veins.

They ascended, Demeter clasping her daughter's hand as if afraid to let go. Persephone stared, seeking glimpses of the gods and goddesses who were her family that she had never met.

At the top of the stairs, a massive entrance hall opened out, with seven fountains which spurted crystalline water. There, a page rushed over, bowing deeply to the goddesses. His hair was light yellow like daffodils, and his smile was fresh and youthful.

"Welcome, gracious Demeter," he said respectfully. "And Persephone, welcome in no less regard. My lord Zeus is expecting you in the council chambers."

Demeter smiled thinly.

"Has the meeting commenced yet, Ganymede?" she asked. Persephone remembered who he was suddenly. Ganymede; the cupbearer to Zeus himself. He was a half-mortal son of Zeus, but seemingly reduced to waiting at the doors.

"No, my lady," he replied. "But most of the council have gathered, so it will begin shortly."

Demeter nodded curtly, and Ganymede looked over their shoulders.

"My lord Asclepius!" the cupbearer exclaimed.

Persephone looked around to see a grey-haired god with a wide smile coming into the hall. She could not recall what he was god of, but it had to be something academic, because his belt was filled with scrolls and vials.

Demeter started walking down a corridor, and nervous about becoming lost, Persephone hurried close behind. Of course, her mother knew where she was going, but every corridor and hall seemed the same to Persephone. Yet each was remarkably different. Shrines to individual deities would from time to time catch her eye, and various gods and goddesses watched their passage towards the hall. There were demi-gods here as well, and mountain spirits tamed to be servants. Persephone craned her neck to see one spirit with a platter of sweet ambrosia pass by, and almost bumped into Demeter, who had slowed as the doors into the Council Chambers opened magically before her.

Persephone stopped dead. Her mouth hung open uncontrolled, because she had never seen anything like this. To begin with, the sheer majesty of the hall was beyond anything she could have imagined. For weeks she had been imagining what this would look like, and yet her limited powers of imagination had not lived up to the real thing. Every inch of the place sparkled and shone with jewels and precious metals and tapestries. The hall consisted of two levels. There were seven different thrones on the lower level and five above, two semi-circles facing the middle of the room. Around these, and already sitting in some, were the gods and goddesses of Olympus, dressed in lavish finery and radiating power and energy.

A few looked up when they walked in, and several purposefully started making their way over. Persephone recognised Poseidon, Lord of the Seas, and his wife Amphitrite. His hair was blue and wavy like the oceans themselves, and his robes were the colour of shells. Also coming over was a tall, tan god whose eyes alighted on her immediately.

"Demeter!" Poseidon exclaimed. He leaned in and kissed his sister on both cheeks. Demeter greeted him with equal warmth.

"It's been too long, Poseidon."

Meanwhile, Persephone tried to not look like a rabbit caught in a snare. She closed her gaping mouth and regained a modicum of decorum. The god approaching her bowed and grabbed her hand before kissing it. For some reason she blushed.

"I don't think I've seen your blue eyes here before," he said in a deep, throaty voice. Persephone was tongue-tied.

"I…uh, my eyes are green. And I haven't been here before, no."

The god shrugged, his confidence radiating off him like heat. His robes exposed most of his muscular chest, and she found herself having great difficulty looking away from him.

"Too bad," he said, leaning in as if sharing a secret. "Olympus has been missing out on-"

"Oh, no you don't, Eros!"

Demeter put a protective hand around Persephone's slender arm and Eros backed off, holding up his hands defensively.

"Just being nice, Demeter," he protested.

"Keep away from my daughter," she warned him, glaring venomously. Eros retreated, striding away with none of his arrogance wounded.

Eros was the god of sexual love, Persephone now recalled. Irrationally, that made her cheeks flush even redder. Demeter steered her towards her throne, a beautiful construction composed of branches and leaves preserved by magic and sheer willpower. Each of these thrones reflected some part of the respective god who sat on it, and this one was a good representation of Demeter. It even matched her dress to an extent.

"Stay close, Persephone," her mother reminded her, as a god clothed in gold came over.

"Demeter, and Persephone. It is wonderful to see you."

"Hello, Apollo. How fare you?"

Persephone was captivated by the sight of so many people who were all ancient and proud, like the world itself. Each of them had a story. Each of them was worshipped by thousands of mortals every day. And for the first time, Persephone started to feel that perhaps she was part of this extended family.

Across the hall, she caught sight of Aphrodite, Goddess of Love. She was surrounded with a gaggle of giggling women; the Graces, her attendants. Apollo talked with Demeter, and his sister Artemis joined them. Persephone liked her immediately, and the Goddess of the Hunt offered her a horn of nectar. The syrupy stuff filled her senses with its sweetness, tickling her throat with warmth. All the while, she was aware of unfriendly eyes. She nervously twirled her golden chain around her fingers. Everyone who saw her seemed to examine her up and down like she was a new piece of meat and not a goddess.

"Hello, young one."

Persephone turned and realised it was Aphrodite who was speaking to her, with a sarcastic smile.

"Hello, Lady Aphrodite," Persephone stammered. The Goddess of Love smirked.

"You seem frightened, sweet girl."

"I'm a little overwhelmed," Persephone admitted softly, feeling embarrassed. Aphrodite placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't be ashamed," she said. "A pretty girl like you has a right to be overwhelmed. Just remember what is yours and what is not."

With that, Aphrodite shot her a look of daggers, and sashayed back to her own throne. Persephone had no idea what she was talking about. Artemis cleared her throat.

"Well, that was rude," she muttered, running a long knife over her fingernails.

"What did she mean, what is mine and what is not?"

"Ares. He's watching you."

Persephone's eyes sought out the God of War, who was standing alone, leaning against the wall. About ten different weapons were attached to his thick-set frame, and he was indeed watching her. She quickly dropped her gaze. Everyone knew Aphrodite was in love with Ares, and this staring was bound to make her jealous. Why was she being treated like either a challenger or a shiny new toy? It made her skin crawl.

There was sudden clapping, and Persephone spun around to see her kindred drop to their knees, because Zeus had just entered the hall.

The King of the Gods swept his arrogant, self-important blue gaze across the group. His short wavy grey-gold hair and beard were shiny, and his arms were strong and hairless. At his side, dressed in a silken red gown, was his wife Hera, and in her arms was their new baby, the boy Herphaestus. She carried him like a trophy; the representation of her dubious ongoing ability to bring Zeus to bed. Gossipers whispered, however, about how ugly the child was, and how they were unsure whether the child was even Zeus'. He had been having an affair with one of the Graces at the time, making the announcement of her pregnancy surprising. But Zeus and Hera's uneasy marriage was old news, and naturally no-one would ever repeat any of their suspicions aloud to Zeus.

"Welcome, gods and goddesses. Please, let us commence this meeting."

He strode towards his throne on the second level, and Hera followed towards her own. Demeter sat down, and Persephone took her place on one of the stools next to her mother's throne. The other thrones were taken, and the other gods and goddesses found places to merely spectate around the edges of the hall. On the thrones of the lower level there was Athena, Aphrodite, Ares, Apollo, Artemis, Hermes and Hestia. Most of them had attendants or relatives who sat at the bottom of their thrones, so Persephone was not alone in that regard. She nervously glanced around and watched the others.

"This won't take long, Persephone," Demeter promised. "Zeus is often bored by meetings. He won't want to prolong the experience."

The young goddess nodded, and frowned. Of the five thrones on the upper level, only four were filled. Zeus was in the centre, with Hera on his left and Poseidon on his right. Demeter was next to Poseidon. But the throne directly opposite them and next to Hera was empty. Persephone glanced around, but nobody else seemed surprised that this was so.

The chair itself was unlike any of the others. Poseidon's was undulating like waves, Zeus' glowed like lightning and Hera's was as bejewelled as she was herself. This throne, however, was black and ominous, seeming to emit shadows like a lamp emits light. It drew her gaze like a magnet.

"Mother, whose-"

"Sssh, Persephone. The meeting is starting."

Zeus rose to his feet and began to greet each Olympian in turn. On reaching Demeter, he made a point of acknowledging her daughter personally, since it was her first time in Olympus. Persephone turned ruby red with embarrassment, but there was no need, because the Olympians seemed to be preparing themselves for boredom, and paid little heed to what he was saying.

Unfortunately, their preparation was well justified, as she quickly discovered. Each of the eleven gods stood one by one and brought up issues to discuss. Wars, famines, unbelieving mortals and serious quarrels were thrown into the debate, and most of them quickly shunned or brushed aside. Persephone tried to listen at first. At first she tried to make sense of the topics at hand. Everything was so awfully tedious that her attention span reached its limit and she began to doze. The arm of her mother's throne pressed into her back, and she leaned purposefully against it, using the pain to keep herself alert. Nonetheless, she was` truly bored out of her wits when Poseidon and Athena began yelling at each other about some estuary they both claimed.

Zeus had just claimed the estuary for himself to end the dispute when the doors crashed open.

Persephone raised her weary head, and her eyes woke up.


	5. Fascination

Hades was late on purpose. Time means nothing to gods, but tardiness could still annoy some of them, and he relished annoying his pompous brother. He strode into the council chambers, met none of the eyes following him, and swished into his dark throne without a word. Only then did he glance at Zeus, whose eyes were narrowed.

"You are late, Hades," the King of the Gods said with a hint of irritation.

"I am," Hades stated levelly. Zeus made a noise of aggravation, and gestured to the circle of thrones.

"My brother, sisters, sons and daughters have all managed to make it here on time," he pointed out.

"Spare me the lecture," Hades said. "You are not my father, Zeus."

There was silence. Very few people existed who would ever have the nerve to speak to Zeus like that. There was a crackle of electricity, and Zeus' eyes ignited briefly with a dangerous light.

"No, Hades," he glared. "I am your king. Do not forget that."

Across the way, Persephone's wide frightened eyes flitted from her father to Hades, and back again. Their eyes were locked in a stalemate for what felt like a year. Thankfully, the Lord of the Underworld dropped his gaze and kept his mouth shut. Zeus, swelling with what he construed as a victory, turned back to the Olympians.

"Let us continue. Hermes, I believe you have something to add."

The meeting continued, but unlike before, Persephone now had something to occupy her time with. Fascinated, she found herself staring in anxious interest at Hades. The Underworld was a realm of woe and madness, she knew, and rumour had it that its overlord was no different. Demeter had told her daughter on several occasions that Hades was a cruel monster who enjoyed tricking mortals down into the Underworld never to return. Yet she was not exactly afraid, just fascinated.

At first she was free to stare at him as the Olympians droned on. His face was paler than any she had seen before, as if the colour had been drained from him. High cheekbones and shadowy dark eyes stood out in contrast, as did his black hair, hanging in greasy strands from his head. His beard was short and unkempt, and his clothing was at odds with the fashion in Olympus, which was bright robes with elaborate trims. Hades was dressed plainly, with a thick black cloak which defied the heat of the summer. There was an otherness to him that both captivated and intimidated at once. Persephone had never seen someone who was so unusual looking, but yet so unbothered with his differences.

She realised she was staring when he looked in her direction, and for a second those cold, harsh eyes met hers. Ducking her head quickly, Persephone resisted the urge to hide behind her mother's throne. She fixed her gaze on the ground, unable to risk letting him know she had been looking. Forcing herself to pretend to concentrate on the meeting, Persephone ignored the sixth sense that he was watching her.

The Lord of the Underworld frowned at the young goddess sitting at Demeter's throne. She was trying to pretend she hadn't been staring at him, but of course he knew better. The younger ones all stared; they were afraid of him, and that was the way he preferred it. If they were afraid of him, they wouldn't bother him. Her face was unfamiliar, and it took Hades a while to recall who she was.

 _Persephone._

Of course. Demeter's precious child Persephone. A child no more. The hazy memory of her birth celebrations flooded back. He remembered presenting her with a gift; a sprig cut from the Golden Elm. Impossibly, he saw she was wearing the very same twig, but fashioned into a chain around her neck. Coincidence, surely.

She glanced up at him again, and just as quickly she glanced away, her face turning bright red. Hades would have laughed if he was prone to do so, but instead the side of his mouth merely twitched amusedly. The Fates had insisted that he attend that celebration years ago. How long had passed? Twenty years? Perhaps slightly less. He appraised the shine of her red hair and the prettiness of her doe-eyed face. She was not tall, yet slender and shapely. As beautiful if not more so than Demeter, yet he could see she was uncomfortable. A flower on the side of a mountain.

Once again her eyes drifted to his, but this time she held his gaze for a moment longer. Her eyes were emerald green, full of cautious, innocent curiosity. Hades found what he saw there interesting. No fear. He almost didn't hear when Ares started boasting of recent victory.

"The dead crowd the banks of the Styx," Hades cut in, turning his icy eyes from Persephone's pretty face to the God of War. "Your battles, which you boast of like the mass murder of mortals is an achievement, are causing much inconvenience in my realm."

Persephone was relieved when Hades finally was distracted, and let out a shaking breath. The world rushed back into focus, whereas just seconds before it had been composed of nothing but his intense gaze. She pulled at the hem of her skirt, and turned to her mother while the gods debated the price and gain of wars. Demeter gave her a look which said "Not long now".

She hoped that was true with all her soul.


	6. Golden Elm

**Things are about to get interesting now. I thought I'd have this chapter posted a while ago, but it took a bit longer than predicted to edit it. But, anyway, here it is now. Enjoy.**

* * *

The Council finally dispersed after many hours of debate, and only then because Zeus decided he needed a stiff drink.

By then night had fallen outside Olympus. Persephone did as she had been told, and kept right next to her mother's side. Demeter led her into another large hall, where they reclined and enjoyed some music played by enslaved mountain spirits. The other Olympians and their entourages slipped in and out, mostly ignoring the Goddess of Agriculture and her daughter. Artemis came over and joined them. Demeter seemed to like the Goddess of the Hunt, so allowed her to converse with Persephone.

"How is your first visit to Olympus?" she asked, oiling her bow.

Persephone sighed.

"Not at all like I imagined," she said sadly. Artemis nodded.

"So was mine. You seem like a benevolent goddess, Persephone," she said. "Take my advice and come here as little as you can. It's not the place for kindness or gentle hearts."

Artemis departed to speak to her twin brother, Apollo. Persephone thought Artemis was so impressive; a virgin huntress with no need of either a husband or a home. She wandered the wilderness and dressed like a wild creature. Naturally, she had put on a decent white gown and armour for attending the Meeting, but anyone who knew anything about Artemis from reputation knew that this was merely a façade.

Persephone closed her eyes, and tried to relax while music played. Getting sleep in a pit of rabid wolverines would have been easier. The music suddenly stopped and there was a sharp cry, causing her to jump to attention, and see what had caused the disturbance. In the centre of the hall, Ares had slapped one of the demi-god servants across the face. The woman sprawled across the floor and scurried away as he yelled profanities after her. Blood ran down her face, and her cries went unanswered. Persephone watched in horror as Ares aimed a kick at her, and his armoured foot connected with her ribs.

"Why does no-one help?" she whispered to her mother, horrified. Demeter clasped her daughter's arm.

"Do not provoke Ares," she warned. "He's a dangerous god to tangle with."

Ares spat at the servant, now writhing in agony on the marble floor. Crimson blood stained the tiles, and without a word, veiled retainers arrived to remove the wretched woman from the hall. Ares' violent glare swept over the gods either laughing or stonily observing this exchange. His vicious eyes landed on Persephone and he smiled very unpleasantly. The young goddess, revolted, avoided his gaze, shying away from the way he looked at her body. Aphrodite told her to stay away from what was not hers, but she needn't have worried. There was nothing Persephone wanted less than Ares in that moment.

"I need air," said Persephone weakly, and Demeter rose to take her outside.

They headed out into the courtyard, a massive area of garden and sweet fresh air. The sky was dark as tar, with a few pinpricks of starry light. Persephone was close to throwing up, and leaned against a pillar to steady the dizziness inside. Even goddesses could feel sick, after all.

"Why does he get away with it?" she asked.

Demeter shrugged, and although her face betrayed her sadness, her voice did not.

"Ares is powerful and vengeful," she answered. "No-one questions him, unless they're looking for a fight."

Persephone watched her mother. Demeter was powerful and ancient. She controlled all the crops in the world, and her powers were as strong as Hera's. Yet she would do nothing. It seemed cowardly. For the first time, Persephone wondered if her mother was the same as the rest of the Olympians. Was she as selfish as the rest?

"Demeter!"

From a balcony above, Poseidon leaned out. His long blue beard dangled over the railings.

"What is it, brother?"

"Zeus wishes to speak with you. Alone."

The Lord of the Seas winked teasingly, ducked back inside, and Demeter glowered. She rolled her eyes, turning back to Persephone.

"Go back to the hall," she instructed her. "I will not be long."

"Okay."

"I'm serious, Persephone. Stay in the hall. You don't know what these people are like."

"I will. I just need some fresh air, that's all."

Demeter gave her beloved daughter a warning look, kissed her cheek, and headed back indoors. Persephone watched the golden light coming from the many windows of the great temple.

Alone, she could have imagined she was back in her mother's garden. She shut her eyes, sat down on a wooden bench in front of a fountain, and in her mind's eye she saw the shushing river and bright flowers of her home. Yet that only reminded her of how trapped she was in that garden, so she instead tried to clear her mind altogether of thought. And into the emptiness she created in her mind, came a melancholy nothingness which made her shiver. Why was she so unhappy? In less than two days she would be home again, and wouldn't have to bother with Olympus for at least another two years. Yet the thought of home filled her with a dread that she could not fathom.

"There she is!"

Persephone sat bolt upright to see the broad form of Ares coming down the temple steps into the courtyard. Two other gods with mean expressions came after him. His cruel eyes were locked on her like arrows to a target.

"Your mammy's not around to guard you, is she, girl?"

Persephone may have been naïve and innocent, but she was not stupid, and she could see the threat written in his face. And no-one would help her, just like no-one helped that servant. She leapt to her feet, and without hesitation, started running. Ares and his companions whooped and jeered.

"Get her!"

"Where you running, pretty girl?"

"Come back, Persephone!"

Her bare feet were scratched against the gravel of Olympus' courtyard. The air rushed past her head and plants snapped at her long hair. She spun around the side of the temple. Behind her, Ares was shouting her name and giving chase. Worse, he was catching up. Fear of being molested or raped gave her speed.

"Perrrrsephonnneeee!" one of them trilled in a taunting, sign-song voice that made her shudder.

"Where you going? We don't want to hurt you!"

The terrible truth that she couldn't just keep running made panic rise in her gut. The garden path she had taken was twisting and provided turns and twists to evade her pursuers, but eventually she knew there would be nowhere left to run. She prayed hard that there would be an entrance back into the temple somewhere, but when none materialised, she started to become desperate. Cold sweat broke out on her forehead, and she thought of screaming for help.

The outer rim of Olympus reared up before her, where railings prevented one from falling down a thousand-foot drop. Looking down into the darkness, Persephone did not watch where she was running, and nearly fell over herself in time to prevent colliding with the tall figure standing there. He turned his head in vague surprise, and she found herself babbling uncontrollably.

"Oh, my Fates, I am so sorry. I just…I didn't mean to…"

Hades raised a thick dark eyebrow, and then saw the reason for the young goddess' distress. Ares' bulk came thundering around the corner, followed by two equally muscular dupes, and Persephone spun to face them in clear terror. For a moment Ares glanced between the Lord of the Underworld and the young goddess he had been pursuing.

"Lord Hades," he said slowly, carefully.

"Ares."

No-one made any effort to move for a moment. Persephone felt her heart pounding, because she could see that this was in fact a dead end, and she had nowhere to run except past Ares again. There was a tense silence punctuated only with the muted sounds of conversation and feasting from inside the walls. Then Hades spoke, with a voice so cold it could have frozen blood.

"Seems to me the lady doesn't want your attentions, Ares," he commented, jumping to the correct conclusion immediately. Ares bristled.

"What business is it of yours?" he demanded, but his uneasiness was obvious.

The shadows in this corner of Olympus seemed to deepen, and the torchlight dimmed. Hades' dark eyes flashed dangerously, and Persephone backed away behind him, unsure who to be more afraid of. Shadows seemed to dance around him, making her skin crawl.

"Don't test me, Ares," Hades cautioned. "I assure you, you will regret it."

Ares' companions were glancing between themselves and him. Their fear of Hades was quite apparent. Ares fumed, glaring at the ruler of the Underworld. The two gods were of a height, but somehow Hades seemed the taller, and utterly confident of his own superiority. Backing down from a fight was not like the God of War, but even his small mind could comprehend the odds set before him. With enormous displeasure, he retreated, looking venom at Persephone.

"I won't forget this," he snapped over his shoulder. "Nobody gets in my way, not even you, Lord Hades."

"Make sure you do not forget it," Hades returned, with just a hint of arrogance.

Hades watched their broad backs until they were out of sight. Slowly, he turned to see the young goddess' wide-eyed face.

"Persephone, daughter of Demeter," he stated. "That is your name, is it not?"

She opened and closed her mouth, no words coming out for a moment. The shock of being delivered from danger seemed to have stolen her manners and ability to talk.

"Yes," she finally managed to say.

Hades' expression was not exactly sympathetic, but not exactly emotionless either. He delicately decided not to ask her what had or hadn't happened between her and Ares, instead awkwardly offering her his arm.

"Allow me to take you back indoors."

Persephone hesitated, but was dreading the walk back, so she nodded, gingerly placing her hand on his black sleeve before they started back the way she had come. The night was chilled in contrast to the warm day, and Persephone's slender hand was cold. Hades admired the way her skin glowed under the starlight. It was as if the stars had also been absorbed into her red hair, which shone and rippled as she moved.

"We have met before," Hades said, "although you are unlikely to recall it. You were just a baby."

Persephone lifted her nervous gaze, curious.

"I am sorry," she said politely. "I don't remember, my lord."

The sounds of conversation and music wafted back into earshot.

"I gave you the sprig of gold that you wear around your neck," he told her, and she subconsciously put her hand over the golden chain.

"Oh," she said, surprised. "I did not know. I assumed it was my mother who made it for me."

He shook his head. Persephone couldn't help but feel like this was a very odd, debatably distressing dream. To actually be talking to the frightening ruler of the Underworld like he was an old friend seemed highly unlikely.

"It is a piece of the Golden Elm which grows on the closer bank of the River Styx," Hades was explaining, quite casually. "It allows the one who carries it free passage into the Underworld. A useful gift, if you should ever have need of it."

By this point they had reached the area of the courtyard where she had originally been sitting. There was no sign of Ares or his lackeys, which was a relief. Torchlight illuminated their faces. Persephone removed her hand from his arm, feeling self-conscious.

"…thank you," she said, looking down at her feet. "For…for scaring off Ares, I mean."

Hades chuckled in a harsh way.

"The God of War may be an excellent warrior, but even he knows when he is outmatched."

Persephone managed a small smile, looking up with gratitude in her doe eyes. Her whole face radiated beauty when she smiled, and quite inexplicably, Hades found that breathing became difficult. In that moment, without knowing it or meaning to, Persephone stole his breath away.

Hades, who was always so articulate and certain, was suddenly incapable of words. They were impossible, meaningless; air that blustered erratically and then was still. Plunging into the emerald universe of this goddess' beautiful gaze, Hades was unable to speak. And even if he had been able to speak then, it wouldn't have mattered. No words could have described the passion that stirred so quickly within. No words could have prevented it. No words could have delayed it.

Unnerved by the silent intensity of Hades' expression, Persephone glanced towards the beckoning torchlight of the temple.

"I must return to my mother. She will only worry," the young goddess said, remembering that she had disobeyed a direct instruction to go indoors.

"Of course," Hades agreed, barely noticing his own idiotic words as they spilled from his mouth. "Go to her."

"Goodbye, Lord Hades," she said, remembering her manners.

"Farewell…Persephone."

He watched her ascend into the golden light of the meeting place, where she was obscured from his sight. Suddenly, his eyes were starving. He wished she would turn, come back, look his way once more. Frozen in place, Hades could not understand why he felt this way. In all his four thousand years he thought he had known all there was to know about his own heart; about his own soul. Why then did his heart pound like this at a simple smile from a goddess?

The breeze, which dragged at his cloak, finally snapped the imagined thread of a dream which held him in place, and Hades took a shaking breath. He berated himself internally, rebuking such a fall to weakness. It was not like him, and it would not happen again, he decided angrily.


	7. One Prison To Another

Hestia, the Goddess of the Hearth, was a plump, pleasant person. With mousy brown hair and a homely face, she was possibly the most ordinary looking goddess in Olympus. The gowns she wore were plain brown or cream, and she kept her hair straight and down, often not brushed because she cared nothing for looking pretty.

She found her eldest brother predictably sitting by himself at the edge of the temple. The night had cloaked Olympus in a blanket of oppressing blackness and beyond the flames of the temple it was impossible to see anything below. Hades' pale face turned to Hestia, and although any other god would have missed it, she saw his eyes warm.

"It has been too long, my brother," she said as he kissed her hand.

Hades was pleased to see Hestia. Of his five siblings, she was the one he thought of as an honest friend. Of all Olympians, she probably possessed the most sanity.

"You have grown fat, sister," he commented, not unkindly; he was merely stating a fact that must have been obvious. She shrugged, unoffended.

"The diet of a goddess does not suit me," she laughed. "I am afraid that partridge and wild boar goes straight to the hips."

They sat on a bench, and he listened to her tell him about the mortals who brought her endless offerings of food, thoughtless for her increasing weight. As Goddess of the Hearth, Hestia felt it was her duty to give shelter in her temple to those without homes, and to admit any and all visitors who came begging comfort. Spending her time cooking and lighting fires, she seemed quite content. Hades just listened, glad that his own sworn task was more variable.

At first, he resisted the urge to mention the name resounding in his head. There was no need to say it aloud, and remind himself of the confusion he felt. Yet he needed to say it.

"Hestia," he said at last, giving in to the impulse, "tell me about Demeter's daughter."

She scratched her head and pulled a tangle from her hair.

"Which one?" she asked.

"The one who was by her side during the meeting. Persephone."

Hestia grinned with crooked teeth and consented, delighted to oblige. Gossip was the currency she traded in, and it came cheaper than gold.

"She is a beautiful goddess, even by our standards, to be sure," she said. "Young, barely eighteen-year, living in her mother's temple. Demeter keeps her very close." Hestia leaned in, conspiratorially. "Rumour has it the girl is allowed no male company, and spends her days trapped within the confines of her mother's land. I pity her not, but yet do wonder at Demeter's sanity to keep Persephone so chained to her. It is a possessive hold to have on a child."

Hades imagined her sitting in a garden, trapped.

"She baffles me," he muttered.

He was speaking about the daughter, but Hestia assumed he meant Demeter.

"Indeed," she chuckled. "I would never keep such a hold on a child, should I ever have one."

The night was drawing on. Soon dawn would burst over the mountains, and Hades knew that he should return to his realm, where the sun did not rise. There he could forget the confusing events of the meeting.

He stood, and turned to Hestia. Theirs was a friendship forged long ago, when for over fifty years of isolation beneath the crushing earth, they had only each other for company. Despite their differences, and the infrequency of their meetings, nothing had diminished their friendship over the years. Still, he realised every time he saw his older sister how much he missed her.

"I must go," he told her.

"Alas," Hestia replied with a rueful smile, "you leave me among these people once more."

She rose to her feet and wrapped her arms around him. Hades returned the gesture, enveloping her in his dark cloak.

"Come visit me sometime," he said, genuinely hoping she would.

"I shall, brother. If I receive an invitation, I shall."

With no more than another glance, Hades departed. He turned towards the skyline, walked three strides and vanished in a burst of shadow.

* * *

The meeting lasted two days longer.

Topics were brought up, topics were discussed, topics were pulled to pieces and topics were argued over. Zeus presided over the world's most powerful debating committee, and the members were the lords and ladies of surprisingly petty disputes for those with such enormous wealth and responsibility.

Demeter and Persephone attended most of the talks on the second day, but Persephone was nervous about being near Ares, and stayed glued to her mother's side. She didn't tell Demeter exactly what happened, but from the way she was acting, her mother could infer enough to become suspicious. They therefore stayed in their room for the majority of their visit, and only left when it was time either to eat or attend another discussion. As time wore on, all Persephone cared about was getting away from the den of murderers and tyrants that was Olympus. Demeter had been right; all gods were the same. Hades, for one, seemed to have abandoned the gathering altogether, which surprised no-one. Persephone had to occupy herself with watching an empty black throne or the gurgling baby Herphaestus as the debates wore on.

The second afternoon of their visit, after the last meeting that protocol dictated they attend, Zeus called Demeter and Persephone to his side. They waited patiently as he considered them.

"You are grown now, Persephone," the King of the Gods said, stating the obvious. "And as you are my daughter, I feel it is my duty to find you a husband."

Persephone's body tensed suddenly, and she was speechless. Demeter, however, was far from it.

"A what?" she snapped sharply, making Zeus flinch. "You want to find her a husband? She is a child!"

"Not anymore, she is not."

"NO." Demeter's face became flushed from anger and she glared her brother down. "She is not some goat for you to sell to a stranger! I put up with a lot of your horse-shit, Zeus, but this is too much!"

The King of the Gods sighed, having anticipated such a reply.

"I merely wanted to arrange a betrothal," he said. "She doesn't have to marry for another hundred years, if it doesn't suit. I thought Heracles seemed a good match for her, and he has been single for a long time."

"Heracles is nearly as dense as you. ABSOLUTELY NOT."

"Demeter, you can't keep her with you forever, you know."

"I only want what is best for my daughter!"

"So do I!"

As they bickered, Persephone noticed that she was being referred to in the third person, even though she was standing right there. That managed to grate on her nerves after a while. Eventually she spoke.

"I don't want to be married," she said quietly. Not surprisingly, her comment went ignored. Demeter was close to spitting at Zeus, and he was losing patience. Lightning crackled ominously along his knuckles.

"I don't want to be married!" Persephone shouted, and they finally looked at her. "I never shall marry."

Zeus gave her a look.

"At least meet Heracles," he suggested. "He may be thick, but he is chivalrous and…"

"You heard her!" Demeter snapped. "She doesn't want him. Come, Persephone." The Goddess of Agriculture laced her arm around her daughter's. "We're going home."

Zeus let them have their dramatic exit, making no attempt to prevent their abrupt departure from Olympus. Climbing on board their flying chariot to leave, Persephone glanced back at the white temple. The relief of getting away filled her chest, but at the same time an odd sense of disappointment clung to the edges of her thoughts of going home. From one prison to another, she thought morosely.

As the chariot pulled away, Demeter wrapped a quilt around her daughter's cold shoulders, pulling her near and smelling the perfume of her hair. Safe at last, she thought, clasping Persephone's hand.

If then, she had any concept of what the next few weeks would bring, such a statement would have not left her lips.


	8. Madness

**One week later…**

Down in the Underworld, everything follows a pattern. It was one of the things Hades found satisfying about his realm. In the Overworld, mortals and gods each followed their own desires and invented their own purposes. Kings rose and fell, empires were born and crushed. Rebellions were incited, mortals dreamt and second chances were given. Down in the land of the Dead, souls did not rebel, they did not dream and each was allotted its particular place for eternity. Unlike Overworld gods, most of the Underworld deities knew what their task was. There was order, logic and justice, as far as Hades was concerned anyway.

But since he had returned from that cursed meeting, the organisation and the order now was devoid of meaning. Hades' thoughts were distracting; an unwelcome change from his usual brooding. They dragged at his sanity like sharp claws, tearing away chunks of his comfortable reality.

Flames flickered in fire pits in his throne room as always, and his boots smacked against the tiled floor. Servant Shades stood to attention, ignoring their master's odd comportment. Hades was pacing without meaning to, back and forwards over the same place at the foot of the steps up to his lonely throne, wondering when it had become so desolate in his eyes. Had his ruminations not been interrupted, his feet could have bored a trench in the ground.

"My lord," came a familiar voice. Thanatos was concerned for his overlord, whose usual untouchable demeanour had been changed into one of listless longing.

"What do you want, Thanatos?" Hades asked, stopping and turning bloodshot eyes to his underling. Thanatos was uncomfortable, and his wobbling extra chin belied his unease.

"My lord," he started, clasping his green hands behind his back, "some of us, meaning me included, are…how shall I put it? Unsettled. We are unsettled by your…your unsettling behaviour recently."

The Lord of the Underworld turned on his heel and strode across the hall to stand right next to a fire pit. The flames licked and snapped around his dark silhouette. It was true, he knew; his behaviour was most unsettling, even to himself. He barely slept, food turned to ash in his mouth, and every waking hour was filled with a deep pining. For days he had acted like a ghost. Part of his soul was elsewhere, and it did not take a genius to know where that was.

"Thanatos," he intoned darkly. "I am in the grips of a disease; a terrible disease which is driving me to all ends of insanity and defying all concentration." He spun around to face the God of Death. "I am claimed by a deafening sadness. I can think of nothing but her."

Thanatos raised a greasy eyebrow.

"You mean the goddess you spoke of before?" he asked incredulously, finding it hard to believe that Lord Hades was this infatuated with a girl. "Is all this due to her?"

Briefly, Hades looked to the ceiling, as if beseeching a greater power for an answer. But, of course, there was no answer, because there was no greater power in the Underworld than himself.

"I feel this…this wound in my chest," he lamented, thumping his fist against a nearby column in vexation. "It cannot be cured with medicine. It cannot be cured with time. How do I cure this? TELL ME, THANATOS!"

Out of frustration, he had roared this last part, making Thanatos retreat a step. Shadowy energy oozed from his overlord like smoke, a testament to the conflict within. The God of Death chose his words carefully, not wishing to further antagonise an already antagonised ruler.

"The cure, my lord," he said, "is obviously to have this girl, this daughter of Demeter's…Penelope?"

Hades shot him a look, striding back towards the throne.

"Persephone," he snapped.

"Yes," Thanatos snapped his fingers. "That's the one. If you want her this much, then take her. You are the Lord of the Underworld. Any woman you want is yours for the taking."

Hades stared up at his own throne. Fighting this feeling which had risen and grown inside him was exhausting. Not only that; it was totally futile. It seemed the more he fought, the more the snare around his soul dug deeper. He saw his own lonely throne, and found himself imagining a future that previously would have been laughable, where Persephone, with her beautiful emerald eyes and radiant beauty, sat beside him. The image was clear and perfect. A thousand small things that would exist with Persephone there flitted through his head. Prevalent was the touch of the slender hands and the sweet scent of the crimson hair which clung to his thoughts.

"I will marry her," he said to himself, suddenly realising how obvious this solution was.

"My lord?" Thanatos said quietly, uncertain.

Hades turned around, suddenly snapped back into himself. A cold, ruthless certainty had taken hold. Picturing her soft skin and ruby lips was enough to make him sure this was what he wanted.

"I will marry her," he repeated.

"Marry?" Thanatos echoed, clearly surprised and failing to hide it.

"Yes." Hades turned away and allowed himself a secret smile. "Yes, I will marry her! Persephone will be my queen."

"How thrilling," came the reply. "A Queen of the Underworld." He walked over to his overlord. "But, my lord," he advised, "You had best ask Zeus for permission."

Reluctance filled his heart, but it was quickly crushed by the power of his obsession with Persephone. Grovelling to Zeus was a small price to pay, surely.

"I will depart at once," he announced, pivoting gracefully on his feet. He strode towards the drawbridge of his palace. "Thanatos, hang banners. Fill my palace with fire and guests. Get rid of the dust – it has been allowed to accumulate for far too long. On my return, I will bring my queen!"

* * *

The light of Olympus was hurting his eyes, but it mattered little. Hades' knee rested on the pale, sparkling stone of his brother's throne room and his black hair was drooping over dark eyes. The embodiment of the humility which he was loathe to fake, Hades asked for the thing he wanted most.

There was silence for a moment, and Hades raised his respectfully lowered head to see Zeus with his head in his hand. There was no-one else present, which was in some ways a relief, as Hades valued his infamous reputation. For the others to see him bow and beg was not an appealing idea. The King of the Gods was dressed in white robes with golden trim, and held a golden sceptre. After a moment, Hades realised his shoulders were shaking. Zeus threw back his head and bellowed with laughter.

"You came here to ask for Persephone's hand in marriage?" he asked, his pompous face going red with what he clearly found hilarious. Hades bristled.

"Yes," he said, finding it difficult to reign in the urge to strike Zeus. "Am I to understand that you do not accept?"

Zeus shook his head, struggling to get words out; he was laughing so heartily.

"No," he declared. "Oh no, on the contrary, Hades, you have my blessing. It is only, when Ganymede told me that you had requested an audience with me, this was certainly the last thing I thought you wanted to ask."

Hades' nerves thrummed with what felt like a victory. Persephone was his.

"Although I hate to owe you anything, I thank you, brother," he said, rising to his full imposing height. Zeus followed suit, still chuckling.

"I had thought of promising her to Heracles," he started saying, as if because of this one agreement he and his eldest brother were now best friends, "but I think the cupbearer Hebe would suit him better. Yet Persephone seems an odd choice for you, brother."

Hades did not blink. Yes, he supposed Persephone was an odd choice, but he had not picked her. The Fates did, from the moment she was born maybe.

"Not that you could ever understand," he explained, "but I love her."

"You? Love?"

Zeus was disbelieving, but Hades said nothing, emotionless and stony. The humour finally left Zeus' face. Perhaps he saw the seriousness of his brother's expression, or perhaps Hades' surprising request just ceased being funny.

"…Whether you love her or not is nothing to me," the King of the Gods shrugged. "I have more daughters than I can count or care to think about." Zeus frowned and grimaced then, thinking of the conversation he had not long ago with his sister. "Demeter will not give her up lightly, I fear," he cautioned. "Tread carefully with her."

"You do not need to remind me of Demeter's temper," Hades said.

Zeus nodded with aplomb, and slapped him on the arm. Hades internally cringed, but did not show it. The last thing he wanted now was to change Zeus' mind.

"Go, marry the girl," the King of the Gods decreed, gesturing to the doors. "Enjoy her."

The floor flew past Hades' feet, which were light as air. As he was pushing the doors open to leave, Zeus called after him.

"Hades, don't let this turn into a battle between Demeter and myself."

"Do not worry," Hades replied, but he wasn't thinking about Demeter right then.

The sparkle and beauty of Olympus blurred past him as he sought the outside, the seductive pull of his infatuation, and most importantly, the garden wherein dwelled his love.


	9. If You Come With Me

**This chapter is particularly dramatic, but I know that's the sort of thing we fanfiction readers enjoy :)**

* * *

Each petal in her hand was perfect in its own way.

Persephone stroked the purple velvet surface of each one, then tore them into two meticulously ripped symmetrical pieces before blowing them into the stream. The water stole each petal away, never losing its greed for them. The constant rushing of water had lulled her into a near doze, and the warmth of the summer beat down on her bare shoulders. Birdsong and the relentless buzzing of insects filled the air. She was dressed in a wavy dress which exposed most of her back and cut off just below her knees. Persephone lifted listless green eyes to the cloudless blue sky, hating the quiet.

Since returning to the gardens from Olympus, her existence had become torturous. It was her own fault, she knew. Her mother had said as much. If she would just accept the happiness she had here, she wouldn't feel so morose. But that seemed beyond her abilities. She had a brief, fascinating, albeit horrifying glimpse into the power of gods during that visit, and she tormented herself now with thoughts of her own potential as a goddess.

Another petal joined its sisters in the brook.

Demeter was somewhere else that afternoon, performing a ceremony to cause the crops to grow.

 _"What can you possibly want that isn't here with me?"_

That was what her mother had yelled in anger when Persephone questioned her sheltered upbringing. Trying to make Demeter understand was like trying to make butter pour from the sky. Impossible.

The silence was deafening. Persephone sighed. After all this time, one might think she would be used to this beautiful imprisonment, but time was no healer. It only exaggerated the agony. She saw a drop fall onto her green skirt, followed quickly by another.

Tears.

She was glad her mother was not present to see that. Tears were a sign of stupidity, Demeter said. Suitable for stupid mortal girls, not goddesses.

"Take me from this idyllic misery," she silently begged nobody at all.

Such was her sadness, that Persephone did not notice when the atmosphere of the gardens was altered. Birdsong slowly died, and a breeze picked up. The warm summer air grew colder. Even the sky seemed to become perceptibly darker.

Persephone wiped another tear from her eye, not allowing herself the satisfaction of a good sob. Sobbing was beneath her.

It was in that moment that she saw the ominous dark shadow reflected in the stream. For a second she did not react, freezing in place. But then she leapt to her feet with sudden agility, startled.

There, several paces from the treeline, stood the very last person she had expected to see.

"I mean you no harm, Persephone," he said, raising empty hands.

His black hair was smoothed back behind his ears, and his skin seemed even whiter under direct sunlight. The aura of despair and doom clung to him even here, and a jewelled sword hung at his side. He seemed as out of place as a wolf in a flock of sheep. Unease crept up her spine.

"Lord Hades!" she exclaimed in shock, searching her mind for a logical explanation for his presence and finding none. "What do you want?" she asked, confused and afraid. "If my mother knew you were…"

"Demeter doesn't need to know I am here," Hades said.

His dark, intense eyes seemed to examine her in a way that made her nervous. Persephone had not forgotten that he had saved her from Ares' lust, but that did not remove the possibility that he was a threat. Ironically, the suspicious part of Demeter seemed to have rubbed off on her daughter. Her muscles tensed, ready to run.

"You seem sad, sweet niece," he commented casually, either ignoring or missing her anxious expression. "Why is that?"

"What care you why I am sad?" she demanded, perplexed by the question. "What do you want?"

"I came to see you," Hades said simply, as if that was the most natural thing in the world.

"Why?"

"Tell me why you are sad," he countered.

Persephone glanced around. Usually nymphs or dryads were within earshot of her, but as far as she could tell, Demeter's servants were elsewhere in the garden. She looked back at Hades, whose expression was oddly calm. He didn't seem like an intruder, although obviously he was.

"I shouldn't be talking to you," she said. "My mother doesn't allow anyone onto her land…"

"I will not stay for long," Hades said. Since she had jumped to her feet, he hadn't moved from where he stood, which was both comforting and concerning at once. "You know," the Lord of the Underworld continued, "my father threw me and my siblings, your mother included, into a pit thousands of miles beneath the earth. We were very close then."

Persephone blinked.

"I did not know that," she said.

"The way the mortals put it, our father ate us, one by one," Hades said, as if just relaying a piece of gossip. "But that is, of course, mere fiction. Cronus did not swallow us; he just let the earth swallow us. Hundreds of years passed, all in darkness, before we were freed and we overthrew him together. You are in a garden of light and beauty, not a damp, stinking cell, and I can still see something in your sad eyes that reminds me of that captivity."

She stared, conscious of the careless tears that were drying on her cheeks. How had he been able to speak aloud her thoughts like they were written above her head?

"I am not a prisoner," Persephone insisted, feeling it was her duty to defend her mother.

"I did not say you were," Hades pointed out.

"I love my mother."

"But she is keeping you here."

Perhaps it was foolish, but Persephone felt soothed by the calmness of his deep voice. It was all too easy to forget that he was a near stranger, an infamous tormenter of mortals, and a trespasser on her mother's land. She awkwardly glanced at her feet, and the need to express her frustrations built up.

"I am no longer a child," she griped then, her annoyance spilling out. "My mother does not see that. I don't want to spend my whole life here or within her sight. I am a goddess, not some delicate flower. My mother is kind and protective, and good…but she doesn't understand that I need to find myself. The world calls to me, but I'm prevented from answering it."

To her surprise, Hades did not laugh, although he didn't seem the sort of person to do that anyway. He did not criticise her childish problems, and he did not pass any judgement on them. Instead, he just listened. Like that time in the courtyard of Olympus, Persephone met his gaze, and forgot entirely that she had any reason to fear this dark ruler. He was quiet for a long moment, then spoke quite seriously.

"I have a proposition for you, Persephone."

There was a twist in his upper lip, like he was amused. It didn't scare her, although perhaps an older, wiser goddess might have been rightly unnerved.

"What?" she asked curiously

Hades walked slowly towards her, and with an underemphasised flourish, he held out his hand. Persephone did not move.

"If you come with me," he offered, "I can promise not only will you find yourself, but many wonders that most people can only glimpse in their wildest and darkest dreams. Take my hand, and you will see the extent of my realm."

Shock made her pause. Then she frowned, a flicker of suspicion returning. This may have been akin to what she had wished for just minutes ago, but a tour of the creepy, dark Underworld was not exactly the adventure she had planned.

"I barely know you, Lord Hades," admitted Persephone. "How can I trust you?"

Hades did not flinch.

"I am your mother's brother," he suggested.

"So is Zeus," Persephone returned, unsure, "and he would marry me to a brute I have never met."

Again, Hades' upper lip twitched in what she construed as amusement. It felt like he was privy to a joke that she didn't understand. However, just as quickly, his eyes became serious again.

"I swear by all I hold as mine," he promised her, "I will not harm you, Persephone."

His proffered hand seemed undemanding. This was her choice; to take a chance or to remain languishing in this deceptive paradise holding her in a kind of despair.

"I don't know," she protested. "Mother would be furious."

"Don't worry about what Demeter wants," Hades urged her. "What do you want?"

No-one had ever really asked her that before. Hades' deep eyes were filled with something more intense than hope, and she let recklessness take control of her. Her hand moved at her side, and she was just about to consent, a slight smile brushing her lips.

Somewhere to her left there was a strangled gasp.

Like she had been stung, Persephone leapt back from the Lord of the Underworld. Her feet sloshed in the muddy water of the stream. Two dryads with enormous staring blue eyes and identical grassy hair were gaping in horror at Hades from the treeline. They looked frantically between the god and their mistress' daughter, before turning to run. Skirts of leaves fluttered around their bark-like legs. Their warning screams were shrill and piercing.

"MISTRESS! LADY DEMETER!"

Hades swore under his breath. Before Persephone could say a word or do anything, he was moving. With a sudden slicing motion through the air, the dryads' feet were knocked from under them. Their bodies were thrown violently into the trees with sickening thumps. Both fell limp to the ground, screaming no more.

"No!" Persephone cried out.

Hades' casual expression had changed, and she realised with a terrified jolt what a fool she had been to be so reassured by his calmness. When he turned to her, his expression was vicious.

"I would have preferred you came of your own will," he glowered, every bit the ruthless ruler of the Underworld. "But timing seems to be my enemy."

Their eyes burned into each other. Persephone felt fear absorb her senses, and she knew a desperate need to escape. With the wild terror of cornered prey, she leapt into the stream. A rock grazed her leg and she clenched her teeth to ignore the pain. Before she got more than a few strides away, there was a splash from behind, and arms seized her around her waist, yanking her out of the water.

"MOTHER!"

Her frantic shriek was cut off sharply as both god and captured goddess vanished in a rush of darkness and shadow.

The garden itself was silent, appalled by the loss of its most precious flower. Blood ran from the nose of one of the broken dryads lying prone at the treeline, and a feeling of grief pervaded the air.


	10. The Underworld

In a sparkling cave several thousand feet below the surface of the earth there was an explosion of blackness. Out of this stepped the Lord of the Underworld, with the Goddess of Spring in his grasp.

Persephone's scream was paused in the moment Hades transported them away, and therefore when they reappeared, she was still shrieking.

"MOTHER!" she yelled desperately.

Hades held her as she struggled, his powerful grip pinning her arms to her sides.

"Your mother can't hear you, sweet girl," he told her with some level of sadistic relish.

Persephone kicked him in the knees repeatedly and he winced, glad he'd decided to put on leather guards that morning. Her wet hair soaked his tunic, and she thrashed futilely against his vice-lip hold.

"Let me go!" she screamed. "Return me to my mother!"

"I apologise for this," Hades said, searching for the chariot he had parked here earlier.

His grey horses nickered uneasily from somewhere in the darkness, and he caught sight of their glinting eyes. This cave was one of the less known entrances to the Underworld, possibly because it was buried. Torches hung from the walls, which were heavily laden with jewels. Sapphires and topaz winked and glittered from all directions, even under their feet.

Hades lifted Persephone, still kicking and yelling, and forcefully dragged her towards the chariot.

"I demand you bring me back!" she protested angrily. "How dare you kidnap me!"

"I didn't particularly want to do that, you know," Hades told her, leaping over a gap in the cave floor. His dark eyes were already adjusted to the gloom. "You could have come of your own will."

"Oh, and I suppose that justifies kidnapping me?" Persephone snapped fearfully. Grief entered her voice, and she abruptly stopped fighting. "You killed my servants, you monster," she whimpered.

Hades reached the chariot and pushed her unceremoniously in before him.

"Do you even know their names?" he demanded, looking flames at her. She was silent. "No? Then don't lament their demise! I couldn't have them go running to Demeter, telling her who took you."

Persephone's face was one of fury, and she felt an overwhelming level of fright and anger inside. Backed into the chariot, she was trembling from fear of what Hades intended to do to her. His eyes travelled over the shape of her body. The wet summer dress she wore was stuck tight to her skin due to that crazed leap into the stream, leaving very little to the imagination. Hades took a deep breath, resisting the instinct to tear the fabric off altogether. Another god, his brother for example, would have had no compunctions in taking her right there. But he looked into the girl's terrified emerald eyes, glowing in the gloom, and reminded himself that she was his queen, and he loved her. He needed more from her than stolen physical pleasure.

Persephone flinched when he climbed in and reached towards her. The intensity of his eyes did not leave hers, but he reached past, grabbing a piece of cloth on the floor of the chariot. His face came uncomfortably close, making her shiver from a fear she didn't even fully comprehend. With odd gentleness, he wrapped the rag around her eyes.

"What are you doing?" she asked, hating the way her voice betrayed her fear.

"This entrance to my realm is secret. Let it remain that way to you."

Hades' fingers lingered in her hair after tying the blindfold, but he was conscious of time limits, and grabbed the chariot's reins. The horses, having been waiting for hours, kicked and snorted, eager to be moving. Blinded and seeing no further point in struggling, Persephone slumped to the floor of the chariot, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Don't call me a monster," Hades muttered before they started moving. "There are much fouler monsters than I in this world."

With a snap of reins, the chariot started moving, plunging them into near total darkness. The greys knew where to go in the blackness, having been bred and reared in the shadows of the Underworld. Hades urged them on into a breakneck gallop, conscious of how fast he had to get beyond Demeter's reach before she figured out what happened to her precious daughter.

Persephone did not cry during the juddering descent into the dark. She was tempted to, but at the same time she knew it would do her no good. Lord Hades did not seem likely to have pity on her tears. Unable to see where they were going, she concentrated on trying to map out in her head how many times the chariot twisted and turned on its downward trajectory. However, after about ten such turns, she had already forgotten the first, and gave up. Chances of escaping were very limited.

Even behind the blindfold, she could see the darkness deepen ominously, and then she noticed odd flickering lights. Eerie flashes lit up her face every few minutes. Then they appeared with increasing frequency, until the glow was omnipresent; an undulating mysterious light. After some time, she felt the chariot's movement even out, and then stop.

Hades reached down and carefully removed the blindfold. It took her eyes a moment to take in what was around her, but when she did, she recoiled in fear.

"Where am I?" she breathed.

High above her was a darkness that seemed shapeless and unending. All around, floating and staring sightlessly, were thousands upon thousands of glowing spectres. Each one was composed of what looked like translucent smoke. Some were clothed in torn rags, while others were naked and skeletal. Their eye sockets were empty, and many were covered in wounds. There were men, women and children; of all ages and heights and race.

"You are on the bank of the River Styx, my lady," Hades said, jumping down and offering her a hand to climb from the chariot. "We are at the entrance of my realm, and I would suggest that you don't try to run. There are creatures in this darkness which even I fear to meet."

Persephone, utterly terrified by the ghostly forms, hesitantly put her hand in his. He clasped it tight, possibly assurance that she wouldn't try to run. When she climbed out, he did not let go. His fingers were cold, but the pressure of his grip reminded her she had not died, and was not in the power of a very bizarre bad dream. Having glanced fearfully around, she saw the reflective surface of an enormous body of quiet water which had to be the River Styx. Torches emitting turquoise flames marked its edges. The souls floating on the edge of the river appeared to be waiting for something.

Hades drew his sword, held it up and muttered some words of what must have been a spell. She gaped as the souls suddenly parted before them, drawing away from their master. Holding her hand close, he strode to the water's edge and dipped his sword in the water. He muttered more words, and there was a metallic ringing noise which echoed in the silence. Ripples spread out from the bank, vanishing into the unseen distance, where mist obscured everything from sight. Persephone peered into the blackness and thought she could see fiery lights far away.

With a liquid movement, Hades sheathed his sword, and all she could hear was her own breathing. Minutes passed, and then she caught sight of a light bobbing up and down over the river. It drew closer, appearing out of a haze. A single lantern was attached to a wide barge-like ferry, and at its helm stood a ragged, hooded figure. Persephone stared at its grotesque face as it drew closer. Dressed like a vagabond, this creature had no nose, just two slits for nostrils. Its skin was brown and wrinkled as a prune, and its lips were black as lead.

"Charon!" Hades called out over the silent waters. "Some haste would have been appreciated."

When the creature spoke, its voice was like the scraping of pebbles against steel; grating and unpleasant.

"Charon is not some dog to be called to your side, Lord Hades," he hissed insolently. "Souls must be taken across, yes? Charon's eternal task cannot be interrupted."

"Silence, ferryman," Hades told him, gesturing to the goddess at his side. "You are in the presence of the Goddess Persephone, daughter of Demeter."

The ferry drew up to the bank, and Charon peered at Persephone with milky, curious eyes. She met his gaze, already too terrified to bother shying away or hiding her fear.

"Ah!" Charon exclaimed. "Lady, welcome are you to the shadows of the realm of the dead."

"Thank you, sir," she answered nervously.

"Sir?" the ferryman echoed with evident surprise. "She calls Charon "sir"? It has been a long time since Charon, the ferryman of the Dead, was ever given such respect, yes. A long time. Polite goddess, very polite. Too good for…"

"Cease your dreary talk and take us across!" Hades ordered.

"As you wish, Lord Hades, yes. Across to the Underworld, yes."

Charon threw a plank out onto the bank, and Hades gestured for Persephone to go first. Shooting him a look of hatred, she tiptoed gingerly across. Charon caught her on the other side, and pointed with a gnarled black finger to a seat on the ferry. To her, the barge appeared surprisingly small for something which was supposed to take all the world's dead across the Styx, but Persephone said nothing. Hades sat across from her, and the boat started moving of its own accord.

The river was a dark expanse, and she watched the souls receding from view as they pulled away. Hades was observing her very closely, making her shiver right up her spine. They did not speak on the journey across, and Charon did not address them, although one could hear him muttering to himself at the prow of the boat. Sparkling yellow lights appeared ahead, and Persephone craned her neck as they drew closer. What looked like fireflies drew near, and she was sure that was what they were until they come closer. Instead of insects, they were odd white-eyed hummingbirds with tiny beating wings and thin beaks.

The birds flew next to the boat. Curious, Persephone held out an arm over the side. At first they veered away, but then came over to investigate, even landing on her skin. If she hadn't been so afraid of everything else so far, she would have laughed at the tickling sensation. Hades watched Persephone intensely, pleased to see that she was appreciating some part of his world, even if it was just the birds of the Styx. In the glow of turquoise flames, she was beautiful. But then, when was she ever not beautiful?

Approaching on the opposite bank was an empty plain and an enormous wall. At first Persephone thought the wall was the side of a mountain, but then realised it was too straight and smooth. It seemed impossible any structure could be so wide.

"The Walls of Erubus," Hades explained in answer to her unspoken question.

The wall stretched out for what must have been miles to either side, the corners or ends beyond sight. Ahead of them was a gate as tall as the walls, and streaming inside were crowded souls. They were gathered in orderly formation, albeit in much fewer numbers than on the farther bank of the Styx.

"Charon must continue," said the ferryman as they disembarked. "No time for those who never die, yes."

"Proceed," Hades told him.

Hades drew her towards the gate, and Persephone tried to ignore the ghosts drifting inside. As they came close, she realised that a lumpy shadow at the entrance was not a shadow at all, but a beast. It reared up and started racing towards them. She screamed and pressed herself to Hades in fear, briefly forgetting that she was afraid of him as well.

The beast had three round black heads with three mouths full of razor-sharp teeth. It had the gait of a dog, but was as tall as the tallest man, with a patchy coat and a long tail. To her surprise, Hades did not draw his sword, but drew a package out of his cloak. The beast stopped dead about three feet from them, and lowered its heads to the ground. Six wide eyes watched Hades, and the creature barked furiously when he threw a golden-brown disc through the passing souls.

"This is Cerberus," Hades told her.

The three-headed dog chased the disc, knocking aside the stream of souls. They opened silent mouths, screaming. The middle dog head swallowed the disc, and all three came bounding over again. To her surprise, Cerberus rolled onto his back, at once seeming more like a puppy than a ferocious beast.

Persephone peeled herself off Hades' side, and watched in amazement as the Lord of the Underworld knelt and stroked the belly of this fearsome creature. Three tongues stuck out of three mouths, and his tail wagged. When Hades rose to his feet, he wrapped up the package again. Seeing her confused expression, he explained.

"Honey cakes - those are his favourite."

Cerberus sniffed Persephone with great interest. Souls and Underworld gods were all well and good, but to have something new to smell was a real treat. Apparently she gained approval, because one of the heads then sloppily licked her arm. Gooey saliva stuck to her like glue. Persephone stroked one of the three heads, realising Cerberus was no more than a big softy. The other two heads whined, clearly jealous of the attention.

"Let us go, my lady," Hades said then. Refusing to go any further was not an option, and she wasn't sure anymore that she wanted to go back, so she allowed him to take her shaking hand and lead her on through the gate.

On the other side of the Walls of Erubus, a new world opened out. Persephone stared. She hadn't imagined anything real could look quite like this. It had to be a bad dream, because the Underworld was surely full of darkness and damp, not as varied as what lay before her. Each direction held something different. To the right there was nothing but darkness; deep and uncompromising, and next to it was the outline of a fortress. Right ahead she could see the souls drifting into what appeared to be an enormous temple. Beyond that was a purple expanse that seemingly went on forever without end, lit by unseen lights. To the left she could see glittering shapes in the darkness, and past that fire and mountains. A person, she thought in awe, could walk through this Underworld forever and never see everything within. She could smell a foul scent on the air, and heard the roaring of something in the distance over constant background keening. The desolation was potent, and above her head there were no stars and no clouds. Just darkness. Awful, frightening darkness. No living creature was meant to be here, she knew.

"Welcome to my realm," Hades said, with equal measures of resentment and pride.

Another chariot was ready at the gate. Something about this entire setup gave Persephone the impression that her kidnapping was planned. And, if so, why? Suspicions crowded her mind. The chariot pulled away, Cerberus loping along not far behind.

As they crossed the empty bleakness of the Underworld, Hades explained to her that the souls were entering the Judgement Pavilion, where each one received their eternal punishment or reward depending on their respective lives. The chariot was charging across the Fields of Asphodel, where souls who had done neither good nor evil wandered in miserable aimless misery. Their wails were audible and mournful, but their eyeless sockets were empty, barely aware of their Lord and his captive goddess. Such agony saddened her, and she covered her ears.

"Why do they cry so?" she whimpered, wishing this nightmare away. The question hadn't been directed at him in particular, but Hades answered it anyway.

"Their fate was decided long ago," he intoned, as if that explained or justified any of this suffering.

Hades' palace reared up like a mountain before them, tall and imposing. Hideous gargoyles and windowless walls stood motionless and watching as their master rode over the drawbridge. Every stone seemed to pulsate with a dark, ominous power. This was a place of deep magic, Persephone felt. Before she knew it, she was inside the palace, and dark veiled servants with skeletal hands and unseen faces were stepping out of the shadows of a dank courtyard to take the horses. Cerberus bounded in, sniffing and growling at nothing in particular.

Hades' cloak swirled around him as he leapt from the chariot. He was in his natural place, she could see. She was not. When she hesitated he seized her hand and half-dragged her through rocky doors. They emerged into a high-ceilinged hall where a group of oddly formed elemental beings stood waiting. The hall was round, ringed with fire pits, columns and black banners. Ahead was a flight of curving stairs disappearing into the bowels of the palace. Persephone felt exposed, conscious of thinness of her damp dress.

Hades dropped her hand, and she was frozen in place as the dark strangers dropped into bows and curtseys to him. One of them did not. A tall woman cloaked in night with eyes like cloudy stars and skin as black as coal stood a little behind the others. Her hair was wispy and grey, and an aura of ancient power clung to her visage. The rest were clothed similarly to each other, in black and greys with some sparkle of jewels or weapons.

"Welcome back, my lord," wheezed one of the gods.

Ignoring their welcome, Hades gestured to his captured goddess.

"May I present Persephone, daughter of Demeter, and Goddess of Spring," he announced.

All eyes fell on her. The gods and goddesses of the Underworld examined her and seemed to find her very interesting. There was an awkward silence, before one of the gods rushed forward. He was round and large, with green skin and a smooth jaw. Like a snake, he lunged for her hand and pressed oily lips to it.

"My dear Persephone," he simpered. "Your beauty lightens these dark halls."

On the borderline of trembling, Persephone managed a short reply.

"Thank you," she shivered. "Lord…?"

"Thanatos," the green god said pompously, bowing low. "God of Death. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

She was confused all of a sudden.

"God of Death?" she repeated, resenting her own ignorance. "I thought…"

"No," Thanatos smiled, guessing her question before she asked it. His smile revealed yellowed teeth, and his breath smelt of something rotten. "Your divine captor is the God of the Underworld. He is my overseer. And our King."

Hades cleared his throat, and she jumped, anticipating being thrown in a revolting, vermin-filled cell where she would be manacled to a wall.

"I am not her captor," the Lord of the Underworld said.

"No?" Thanatos asked, with a raised eyebrow. "She has the quaking demeanour of a prisoner."

"Be gone!" Hades ordered, and Thanatos retreated. "Persephone," he continued, much gentler, "you must be tired, and your leg needs binding."

With a snap of his fingers, two Shades materialised from positions next to the walls. Until that moment, she hadn't noticed the trickle of blood tracing a path from her knee.

"Take the lady to her room," he ordered, gently pushing Persephone towards them with a cold hand on her exposed back. "Find her a suitable wardrobe."

Without a word, the Shades, two females as far as one could tell, ushered the fearful goddess up the curved staircase and into the lavish dark of Hades' palace. Persephone had just seen more in that day than any sane person should see in a lifetime, and was beyond resisting whatever fate was in store, so she meekly allowed herself to be taken along.


	11. Pomegranate

**Crucial chapter here. Thank you so much for your kind reviews so far! It's really encouraging to hear you like the story. :)**

* * *

Faded red curtains and a woollen black carpet covered stone floors. A four-poster bed stood against one wall, covered with a dark veil. The room was sparsely furnished, with a large golden-rimmed mirror and dresser. Decoration did not appear to be one of the strong suits of Hades' palace, and this room was no exception.

One of the Shades rushed over to the fireplace and struck flint until flames leapt up. Persephone was relieved to see the fire was gold and red, instead of the eerie turquoise that existed on the Styx. The other Shade ushered her over to the mirror. A frightened girl stared back at her. Blood ran from her knee and her dress was still damp, hanging from quivering shoulders. The cold had crept up on her quite suddenly, making her teeth chatter. Persephone told herself to get a grip. Yes, she had been kidnapped. Yes, she was trapped in the Underworld at the mercy of a merciless overlord. But she was a goddess, not some trembling waif. She forced herself to control her fear and focus.

Her emerald eyes darted over to the Shades, who walked over with armfuls of dresses. The shorter of the two held up a dark violet gown. It seemed warmer anyway, and Persephone was happy to change out of her wet dress.

"Are you mortals who gave their souls to Hades?" she asked them as her pale bare feet slipped into the velvety fabric.

There was no answer. Perhaps Shades didn't speak.

The dress fitted perfectly, which was strange. Trying to ignore yet another sign that her kidnapping was arranged, she concentrated on controlling her fear instead. The dress was armless, elaborately embroidered, but the fabric was comfortably soft and the skirt fell down to her ankles. The Shades wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, brushed her hair, bandaged the wound on her knee and tied sandals around her feet. The reflection in the mirror was still frightened, but now at least was dressed appropriately.

There was a knock on the door.

Persephone whirled around to see a strange woman with blood-red eyes and spider's webs for a dress peer in. She bowed, with wild hair flowing off her bony back.

"Your presence is requested, my lady," she said in a breathy, doleful voice.

The mad goddess with wild hair, whose name was Eris, escorted her downstairs and left her at a wide stone door. Persephone stepped into another hall, much similar to the one she had been in earlier, where a table was laden with food. The golden plates winked in firelight. Braziers hung from the ceiling, and shadows adhered to every corner.

Hades was sitting on a chair near the first open balcony she had seen in the palace. He rose smoothly to his feet as she entered. The balcony seemed to offer a view of the purple expanse they had crossed recently, and she avoided looking in that direction, because the souls distressed her so much. Fortunately their weeping could not be heard from this distance.

"My lady," Hades said.

"Lord Hades." She managed to keep the tremble out of her voice.

It occurred to Persephone that she had never seen the Lord of the Underworld wear anything different than the black tunic and cloak he wore now. Perhaps he never wore anything else.

"You are the most beautiful goddess in the Underworld," he declared.

"Thank you," she replied shortly, remembering her manners.

From what she'd seen so far of Underworld goddesses, being the most beautiful among them was not a great achievement. Feeling her hands shaking again when he gazed on her with those intense dark eyes, Persephone plucked at the edge of the new dress. Why did he look at her like that? Hades blinked, and gestured grandly to the table.

"Help yourself to the plenty of my kitchens," he offered.

Despite herself, Persephone felt her stomach growl. It must have been hours since breakfast. Although goddesses didn't need to eat to stay alive, her body was accustomed to regular meals. Her feet hesitantly took her to the table, and Hades pressed a sliced pomegranate into her hand. The coldness of his skin brushed hers, and she ignored the way his eyes unblinkingly followed her movements.

"I did not know fruit could grow in the Underworld," she said thoughtfully, avoiding his gaze.

"Yes, indeed it can," Hades told her in a monotone that showed an apparent lack of interest. "Using a hundred thousand mirrors, light is brought into a grove not far away from here. I will bring you to see it if you wish."

As he spoke, she popped some of the pomegranate seeds into her mouth. The cloying sweetness was delicious. Demeter hadn't been fond of a varied diet, and pomegranate had been a very rare treat. As the seeds broke apart in her mouth, she tried not to let her unease show. Hades was standing very close, so close she could hear his breathing. She swallowed, and a shiver ran up her back as Hades' fingers traced a path along her arm. Like she had been slapped, Persephone dropped the fruit and backed away.

"Lord Hades," she said pleadingly, not daring to meet his gaze, "please return me to my mother."

Hades suddenly chuckled harshly. Having never heard him laugh, Persephone glanced up. It was a cold laugh; mocking, and stole her hope like he had stolen her from her mother's garden.

"No," he said simply.

"Why?" she cried. "Why not? Tell me why you have dragged me here."

Innocent and naïve, she had failed to see what would have been obvious to a slightly wiser or more experienced goddess. Hades could only ever have had one reason for taking her away, but Persephone perhaps did not want to believe the truth.

"Persephone," the Lord of the Underworld began, "this may be difficult to understand, because we have only properly met once before. But in that single meeting, when you smiled under the golden light of Olympus…I loved you."

Her fearful heart knew nothing but confusion. Love? How could he love her? It was ridiculous. People who were in love didn't kidnap their lovers and drag them beneath the earth.

"Ever since that moment" Hades was saying, "I have been in the grips of a madness that I know only you can cure."

Persephone stared in utter shock as he bent his knee and knelt before her, clasping her small hand. His deep eyes were full of emotion and a fiery want that could not be summed up in words.

"I asked you to come with me, sweet Persephone, daughter of Demeter," he asserted without hesitation, "because I want you to marry me. Will you accept my hand and be my queen?"

For several seconds she was silent, her mind going into overdrive.

"Marry you?" Her voice was quiet.

"Yes, my love," Hades declared.

"Don't call me that," she snapped immediately, pulling her hand away from his cool grip. "I can't marry you!"

"Actually, you can. I've arranged it with your father."

"My father?" she echoed inanely, finding it difficult to get her mind around this entire situation.

"Zeus has given me full permission to take you to wife," Hades stated with relish, rising to his full height.

Persephone couldn't think. Even if she could, she wouldn't have known what to think. This was preposterous and confusing on so many levels.

"But I told him I don't want to marry anyone, let alone you!" she lamented, abruptly hating her father even more than she hated Hades. "I don't want to be queen of the underworld. I don't like this place, with its damp smell, the unending darkness and the weeping of tearless eyes. Take me back to my mother!"

A dizziness had taken hold while she spoke, and she noticed her vision start to tilt.

"I am not giving you back," Hades told her coolly, lifting the dropped pomegranate from the floor and examining it.

"You say you love me, but you'll keep me here; a prisoner?" Persephone said angrily. "If you don't return me, I swear to you, I will escape. I -"

Her words were choked off as her throat constricted. With an almighty wave of nausea, she felt her stomach lurch and her vision spin uncontrollably. Already weak knees collapsed underneath her, and she threw out her hands to catch herself before her face collided with the tiles. Disoriented and afraid, she looked up at Hades. He seemed very unconcerned, just watching her and placing the pomegranate down on the table.

"What have you done to me?" she choked.

"It is odd," Hades said grimly, almost regretfully, "the effect food grown in the Underworld has on the living. It takes a while for the body to adjust to it, even for us immortals. Just six seeds from one fruit can cause all kinds of physical discomfort. And once you have adjusted to it, you are bound here. Your soul belongs here, beneath the ground. And, if it belongs to the Underworld, then it belongs to me. And I say, sweet girl, you are going nowhere."

Persephone felt this new betrayal with keenness. How could she be so stupid? She had known what food from the Underworld did to a person, but in her fear she had foolishly forgotten and allowed herself to be tricked once again. Vision blurring, she started to weep. Her crystal tears fell on the tiles one by one, each as mournful as the first.

Hades knelt next to her, but she flinched away from his touch.

"I hate you," she cried, not caring how childish she seemed. "I hate this place."

When he spoke, his deep voice was yearning and sincere.

"I hope that changes, Persephone," he said. "You have no idea how much I hope that changes."


	12. Mother's Fury

Demeter just stood there.

This could not be. This could not be.

The dryads' broken bodies had turned grey and the sky was darkened in response to the poignant loss that had filled her gardens. The stream rushed but was drowned by the panicked cries and grieving keening of the nymphs and dryads gathered around their murdered kin.

"Where is she?" Demeter repeated over and over, receiving nothing but lamenting apologies in response. "Where is my daughter? Where is my Persephone?"

Only a god could have done this, she knew. Her garden was well guarded, and its edges were impenetrable to mortals. This was the work of gods.

One of the nymphs yelled and pointed into the stream. Demeter's gown billowed out behind her as she rushed over. Her blonde hair had come undone from its pins, and her graceful steps were stiff and angry. The nymph reached in and pulled something out of the clear waters. It dripped in her leafy hand.

A torn piece of green fabric.

Persephone.

It was from her dress. Demeter knew that, because she had picked that dress, even sewn a hole in it herself once. When her beautiful flower had turned eighteen, she had worn that dress at a party here. Persephone's eyes had seemed light then, and her cheeks flushed with happiness. Desperation took hold quickly.

"Who has done this?" Demeter said, anger filling her like poison. "WHO HAS DONE THIS?"

Cries of despair rained over Sicily like hail in the days that followed. The Goddess of Agriculture searched tirelessly for her precious daughter, screaming her name into the wind. At first, when no-one knew what had happened, all of her allies rallied to her side in her search. Poseidon delved in his oceans. Apollo scoured the surface of the earth from the sky. Artemis shouted her name over endless hills. The trees themselves whispered to each other what had happened, and shied away from Demeter's grief and anger. Mortal farmers shuddered and hid, whispering that their goddess had gone mad with pain. For three days she sought any sign of her beloved girl, her only love. All her holy duties were shirked. Without Persephone, they were devoid of meaning.

After those three days, she was sitting on a throne in her temple, clasping a golden chain that Persephone loved to wear. It had a piece of golden twig attached to it, and although Demeter could not remember where it had come from, it was a reminder of her precious girl. In that short space of time, Demeter's luscious blonde hair had turned grey and lost its shine. Her forehead betrayed signs of great age, and her back was hunched over with bottomless sadness. Not knowing where her daughter was made this worse than if she had been dead. Anything could be happening to her

Entering her temple, an unwanted visitor approached. His light footfalls and white tunic were familiar. Hermes, Messenger of the Gods, had arrived with news.

"Gracious Demeter," he greeted her, bowing deeply, "I bring tidings."

"Speak quick and true, Hermes," Demeter snapped. The need to continue her search was ever-present.

"Before I do," he said uncertainly, "promise me that you will not harm the messenger. I am merely the conveyer of news."

Demeter fixed her gaze on him, seeing him flinch. Somehow she realised his news had to be about her missing treasure.

"What is it?" she demanded, rising to her feet. "Speak, damn you!"

"Your daughter, Persephone," Hermes began, and her heart sped up with false hope. "I know where she is."

* * *

Fury is an odd thing. It begins with panic; powerful and sudden, gripping one's heart tightly. Then comes frustration; an annoying sensation of wrong and injustice. Anger follows soon after, and if unchecked, it intensifies into a rage that cannot be measured and cannot be fenced in.

Zeus and Hera were hosting a banquet in Olympus that afternoon. As usual, the Olympians were reclining and enjoying the relentless summer heat. Wine and nectar ran like water, and the King of the Gods was ignoring the rumours that had spread recently about Demeter's lost daughter. _Don't let this turn into a battle between Demeter and myself._ He told Hades that several days ago, and hoped that his brother had listened even a little.

Until, that is, he could no longer do so.

Demeter, the very sister he sometimes wished he had married instead of Hera, burst into the hall like a hurricane. A hurricane would have been far gentler.

"You!" the Goddess of Agriculture roared, a lioness infuriated. Her appearance was almost unrecognisable, and she was looking daggers right at him. "You sneaking, hateful rat! How dare you! HOW DARE YOU!"

"Peace, Demeter!" Zeus boomed, getting up and correctly anticipating a fight.

The Olympians ceased their feasting and gaped on.

"NO!" Demeter shrieked. "There will be no peace for this! THERE WILL BE NO PEACE. Make him give her back, or I swear to you, Zeus, I will tear both you and Hades into pieces and cast those pieces into the darkest bowels of Tartarus!"

Ah, Zeus thought. So she knew.

The King of the Gods glanced around the gathered audience. Most of them already knew what this outburst was caused by, and those who didn't were sure to work it out in the next few minutes. At his side, Hera was studiously examining her perfect fingernails, as if Demeter meant nothing more than a sudden gust of hot air.

"Peace, Demeter," Zeus roared, coming down the hall.

"Persephone," Demeter mourned, her voice full of sadness. "My sweet flower. You have let that monster take her to his realm, the only place I cannot reach her."

Zeus glared her down. Such insolence. It infuriated him that this woman possessed the nerve to speak to him so rudely.

"That monster is the Lord of the Underworld," he declared. And do not fear; Hades intends to marry her. At his side, Persephone will be a queen. You should rejoice for her, not grieve."

Demeter glared up at him.

"You are a lying, slithering worm!" she screamed.

Zeus wondered why he had ever enjoyed Demeter's company, and soundly slapped her across the face. She stumbled back on the white tiles. The loud, fast talking of the present gods and goddesses conveyed their differing opinions over this argument. Some were appalled, and rose to their feet to protest, such as Apollo and Eros, but everyone knew they had their eyes on pretty, young Persephone, and their arguments went unnoticed. Most of the gathered deities sided with their king, but the Olympians were divided. Goddesses of Life did not generally belong in the Underworld, even as queens.

"Silence, all of you!" Zeus roared authoritatively. "Hades may not be my favourite person in the world, but he is my brother, and you will watch your tongues if you value them."

Zeus' was the only word that mattered here, and he knew it.

Sensing that her daughter's fate was slipping from her grasp, Demeter was truly hysterical. Blood ran in crimson rivulets from her fingernails, she was gripping her fists so hard. Thoughts of what Hades could be doing to her innocent girl right then made her desperate.

"Zeus, my brother," she pleaded, falling to her knees and clasping at the hem of his white robes. "We have had our differences, but yet you once cared for me. I know you did. Please. Our daughter…"

"Your quarrel is with Hades, Demeter, not me," her brother glared, beyond reason. "I did not advise him to steal Persephone out from under your nose. That was his fault and his alone."

"But, my lord," she begged, tears streaming from her eyes, "you can order him to release her, before…before…"

"I will do no such thing!" the King of the Gods decreed. "Now get from my sight, Demeter, I have no more to say to you. Apollo, Athena, remove her from these halls." When neither of them moved, he shouted. "You heard me!"

He turned his back on his demented sister. Demeter breathed heavily, feeling every ounce of her emotion seize violent control of any reason she still possessed. As armoured Athena and golden Apollo came towards her, she rose and stamped hard on the floor. There was a deafening crack, and the tiles beneath her bare feet split open. Zeus spun around, lightning crackling in his fists. The Olympians were all on their feet, shocked. Demeter, once so sensible and graceful, was wild with crazed fury.

"If I cannot have her back, then be warned," she said in a voice as calm and dangerous as a silent sky before a storm. "You may have forgotten the extent of my powers, Zeus, but I have not. I will freeze the entire world and kill every living thing one by one until Persephone is returned to me. The ice ages of old will seem mild compared to the winter I will inflict on your realm!"

The gods and goddesses watched as a wind picked up and Demeter's hair whipped around her furious face.

"Hades will return my sweet flower," she hissed, "or my vengeance will know no boundaries."

There was a collective gasp as the Goddess of Agriculture disappeared in a flash of light. The Olympians were silent for a moment and the smell of acrid moss filled the air.

In mere moments, a tempest brewed outside the confines of Olympus, the summer started to turn to ice, and the world became very ill indeed.


	13. Different

**It's taken a bit longer to write this one, but I'd like to think that means I put more effort into it. :)**

* * *

Hades' pale fingers drummed against the edge of a stone chair.

To anyone watching, the excitement in his mannerisms appeared almost comical. Usually, for the emotionless Lord of the Underworld to be this cheerful, something unpleasant would have to happen to one, or preferably both, of his brothers. However, as far as he was aware they were in excellent health, and nonetheless he was full of the thrill of victory. Hades was either tapping his foot to some unheard melody or, like he was now, rapping his fingers against a nearby surface. Every nerve in his body thrummed with contended pleasure. Persephone, the most beautiful and benevolent goddess in the world, was his. Or she would be anyway within a few days.

Near him were gathered Nyx, Goddess of Night, and some of her offspring. As ancient as time itself, Nyx was an elemental being cloaked in dark. It was a compliment that she had left her palace to journey to his, but, then again, the Lord of the Underworld didn't get married every day. Oizys, Momus, Apate and Geras were sitting next to their mother, talking about woe and misery and warring mortals. The House of Nyx made up the important part of Hades' court, and the goddess herself was above reproach or even understanding. There was a deep, silent power to her that harkened back to a time when gods were more than mere rulers of the world, and mortals did not lay claim to the earth. Nyx did not just preside over night; she was night.

Thanatos strode in, bowed to Nyx, whose eyes turned to her son without blinking. Hades watched him shuffle near, and they exchanged a secretive nod.

It was done, then.

After Persephone was brought to his realm, he had ordered that the main gates to the Underworld immediately be shut. Only secret entrances and essential tunnels for the souls were kept open. There would be no unwanted surprise guests entering his realm before the wedding. Demeter, unlikely to try to enter the Underworld anyway, now didn't stand a chance of reaching her precious daughter. As a result of the shut entrances, many gate guardians had gathered to the palace, filling the empty halls with more activity than usual.

"That's the last one," Thanatos said conspiratorially, sitting near his overlord.

Hades nodded, his mind pleasantly and eternally focused only on the thought of Persephone. Nothing could irritate him now. Nothing could destroy this wonderful feeling that he had all he wanted in the cruel universe.

Except perhaps one small thing.

Persephone had downright refused to marry him. Since she had consumed the pomegranate, the Goddess of Spring had been hiding in her room. Two days had passed. He had walked by her door and heard her sobbing through the endless night. Sobbing because she missed her mother, the light of summer, the fresh air and her freedom. Hearing such a thing made his throat feel tight, and an unfamiliar, desperately inconvenient sense of guilt filled him.

"My lord?" Thanatos frowned, seeing Hades' face darken.

"Persephone has refused to leave her room," he explained, speaking in relatively hushed tones so that the gathered Underworld deities would not overhear and gossip about their ruler's stolen heart.

Over the two days since he had brought her to his palace, he had come into his bride-to-be's room from time to time, but she shied away from him and shunned his every effort to make her more comfortable. He had given her jewels, servants and delicious food, but to no avail. There was a determined sadness in her eyes, like her misery was governed purely by a sense of duty to her mother.

"Well," Thanatos shrugged, "she will have to come out eventually."

The Lord of the Underworld leaned back. Across the hall, Nyx was silently stroking Geras' grey hair and looking straight at him. He studiously avoided her gaze, suspecting she could hear every word anyway. Showing weakness to anyone was not something Hades was overly fond of.

"My bride loathes me now," he sighed. "I fear I've lost any chance of redeeming myself in her eyes."

Thanatos shrugged again, clearly not seeing the point.

"Why does it matter?" he asked. "She is yours, whether she likes it or not."

At that point Hades recalled that he was speaking to a god who had no concept of what he spoke of and probably never would.

"You do not understand love, Thanatos," he coldly told his underling.

"Nor do I ever hope to."

In fact, Hades was not entirely sure he understood love himself. He was in it, certainly, but his inability to understand his own turbulent emotions was starting to prove that merely being in love did not make one an expert. Owning Persephone's soul and body was not enough. Hades longed to also own her heart, and that was the one thing he could not simply force her to give.

"I thought simply to have her would be enough," he muttered darkly. "But it seems possession and love are two separate things."

Thanatos, bemused by this proclamation, was quiet for a moment, not understanding the difference whatsoever. He looked closely at the god he admired more than any other. Unyielding Hades, who never doubted himself, was in the thrall of a beautiful woman. Up until then, Thanatos had thought and hoped this was a passing desire, but it seemed this was more than that. It was unnerving to witness.

"What will you do, my lord?" he asked.

The Lord of the Underworld glanced at him, and his eyes were still his own; harsh and unchanging. Love had driven him to distraction, but thankfully it hadn't stolen his will.

"The wedding will take place as planned," Hades declared. "But I intend to win her heart before it."

The God of Death shook his head.

"Seeing your tortured expression, I am most glad I have never loved," he commented grimly.

Hades veered their discussion towards the wedding preparations. Whether or not Persephone's heart was his, he was still determined to make her his queen. That much was certain. The Underworld gods and goddesses were to be attending, and since the celebration was the first here in what must have been a millennia, a sense of interested anticipation pervaded the air. Underworld festivals used to take place every few months in a time before Olympians reigned. Hades did not recall that time. Under his rule, festivals had seemed extraneous to requirement. But his own wedding seemed reason enough to celebrate.

"I am inviting Hestia," Hades said after a while.

"Hestia?" Thanatos echoed eagerly.

Hades shot him a look, and the God of Death looked suddenly at his own fat hands. However, that reply had come too quickly and intently for him to successfully feign disinterest.

"How will she get here?" he asked nonchalantly. "With the gates sealed, I mean."

Hades thought it best to leave Hestia's journey to himself.

"She knows a secret way," was all he said, getting to his feet in order to escape the dull company of his closest advisor.

* * *

Persephone gazed into the mirror.

Her reflection ran a hand through darkening hair; now more auburn than its usual red. Two nights she had spent in the Underworld. Two nights, and already she looked like a changed goddess. There was a whiter pallor about her face, and her expression was no longer frightened, but tired. The many tears she had allowed to fall from her green eyes had dried as she turned from self-pity to a resigned sense of sadness.

Five days.

That was how long she was given before Hades married her and she was his forever. Five days before he bound her to him for all eternity. Never had she felt so powerless, but convinced herself she was not helpless. She could still refuse. A marriage wasn't binding if both parties did not consent to it. Hades couldn't make her marry him, surely. Could he? Unfortunately, Persephone wasn't familiar enough with marriage law to be certain, and the Lord of the Underworld had appeared unfazed by her refusal.

On the first day of her new captivity, Persephone had refused to leave her room. The pomegranate seeds sent her digestive system on an adventure through unchartered territory, and she spent most of the day lying on her four-poster bed, staring into the canopy and wishing away this nightmare. Once her stomach stopped heaving, she continued lying there, afraid of leaving the room and having to face Hades, or any of the frightening residents of the Underworld for that matter.

Hades; the god she was betrothed to.

The very thought made her shiver. Persephone had absolutely no desire to be married. The thought had crossed her mind from time to time, obviously, and never came to anything. Demeter never would have allowed mention of marriage, but in self-indulgent moments when she had secretly envisioned a future husband for herself, he had been a very far cry from the Lord of the Dead. She had imagined someone warm, caring, handsome and considerate. Hades, it appeared to her, fit none of those categories. He was cruel, foul and had dragged her here against her will.

Yet she did recall that he had saved her from Ares, and he didn't attempt to hurt or grope her as she had feared. Instead he treated her with respect, like something fragile he was worried about breaking or turning against him. Nonetheless, from a moral point of view, she loathed him. Although the Lord of the Underworld did everything possible to make her more comfortable, Persephone retreated from him and sulked. She nursed a hatred of her captor that was born more out of resentment than fear now.

On that first day, her two Shade servants had been her only decent company.

"What are your names?" she asked them, and they turned their veiled heads to each other, silent. "If you can't speak, then write them," Persephone sighed, offering a quill and ink bottle to one of them. "Here. You first."

Their names were Alena and Dara. Another servant, Medusa, explained that they had been bound to eternal service for cruelty to their own servants in life, like many of the Shades. Persephone had assumed they had foolishly sold their souls to Hades, and even as she loathed her kidnapper, she had to see the logic behind these Shades' servitude.

Medusa brought her meals, which she refused to eat, despite assurance that the food was grown in the Overworld. How could she possibly trust the word of Hades' servants when she hated him?

Persephone asked Medusa how she ended up a servant in the palace. The snake-haired woman wore a blindfold for unknown reasons, and had a snappish demeanour. Despite this, she was eager to explain that she had once been a very beautiful mortal priestess to Athena. She was raped by Poseidon, cursed with foulness and evil powers by Athena and crawled underground to escape hunters baying for her blood. Having entered the Underworld, she begged Hades to let her work for him, and he had eventually accepted. Usually, she explained, she was guardian of a gate into the Underworld, but it had been shut recently. Indeed, said Medusa, most of the gates were now shut.

Persephone tried not to think of the gates being shut as equal to her being trapped in the Underworld. She wept and slept fitfully, her nightmares closely resembling reality.

On the second day, she realised she was free of Demeter.

It was her waking realisation on the second day. She was no longer under her mother's power. Demeter was no longer the constant presence controlling her every movement, and some part of her suddenly relished a change from that prison, even if the change meant being taken to another prison. In the garden when Hades asked her to come with him, for a long moment she had felt the irrepressible urge to take the chance. Perhaps some small part of her was glad to have been stolen. Immediately, she repressed such thoughts.

On rising, Persephone felt so unusual that her head swam. Now, looking in the mirror, she realised that on a subtle level she also looked different. Was this the effect of the pomegranate? No-one had explained what other side effects she might experience.

Eventually being in the one room began to feel suffocating. Utterly sick of the dreary grey walls of her room, she finally mustered her bravery, and wandered the palace at the behest of the goddess Eris, trailed by guards at a distance. The emptiness and eerie beauty of the ancient halls was striking to her all of a sudden. Having nothing else to do, she admired the old elegance of the architecture. This had once been a truly wondrous palace, she mused, and could be again if it wasn't so neglected. All it would take was a few carpets here, some polish there, and candlesticks to bring out the shadows.

Eris, the wild-haired Goddess of Strife muttered to herself as she walked next to Persephone. Underworld deities were insane, it seemed, and Eris was no exception. Perhaps it was something in the atmosphere down here that turned everyone mad. Eris called her queen, which annoyed her beyond measure. The red-eyed goddess touched Persephone's wavy hair.

"So pretty," she whispered, smiling with crooked teeth.

"Thank you," Persephone replied, wishing everyone would stop commenting on her beauty. Eris saw the resentment in her eyes and lightly held her chin. Her gnarled fingers were rough-skinned and scratched.

"Why so sad?" she asked in a hushed voice. "You are going to be a queen. One of the most powerful goddesses in all the worlds."

"I don't want to be married," Persephone whined. What did power and respect matter without freedom? Eris dropped her chin.

"Ah, to be young and have a head full of wool," the Goddess of Strife sighed, leading her towards a stone balcony in the side of a tower.

"Excuse me?" Persephone said, mildly offended. Eris gently pushed her onto the balcony with her sharp-nailed fingers.

The Goddess of Spring looked out hesitantly over the bleak darkness of the realm of the dead. At first she refused to believe it, but the blackness of the Underworld had become beautiful. The dark was no longer uncompromising and evil, but oddly sheltering. She told herself this was the effect of the pomegranate, nothing more, but some part of her felt inspired looking over the endless expanse of Hades' world.

"The Underworld has responded to your presence," Eris hissed quietly. "You belong here, my queen."

Persephone could not see in what way the Underworld had responded, but she watched the shimmering of souls on the Fields of Asphodel and knew that something had been altered, at least in her own eyes. For the first time, she noticed a smear of sparkling green on the canvas before her. That must be the Elysian Fields, she thought, where souls were rewarded for their worthwhile lives. Why hadn't she seen it before? Perhaps she had been so afraid that she had only allowed herself to see the worst in her surroundings.

Behind her, she heard Eris mutter something to another person, but she did not look around to begin with, still gazing on the odd beauty of this miserable dead world. However much she suddenly appreciated its majesty, she did not belong there. She was a goddess of life. Her place was with nature, above the ground, in the warmth of sunlight.

When she finally turned around, Hades was standing there and watching her closely. Eris was gone, and the Shades were halfway down the corridor, waiting. Persephone did not look away from his deep scrutiny. For some unexplained reason that was probably connected to the pomegranate, the Lord of the Dead looked different. There was a depth to those dark eyes that was beyond measure. A lonely, freezing, intense depth.

"My love," Hades said after a moment, as if she did not hate him.

Slowly, his hand lifted and traced the edge of her jaw before he leaned down and pressed his lips to her hair. Persephone tensed and felt a shiver run up her back, but she did not resist. A lingering tingling sensation remained where he had kissed her.

"Lord Hades," she said softly.

"You seem less upset today, Persephone," Hades commented, not bothering to disguise the fierce hope in his deep voice.

"Do I?" she said thoughtfully, awkwardly shuffling her feet. "I suppose I feel different. Perhaps not better," she added pointedly, "but different."

It was a start, mused Hades.

"I am glad," he told her, and meant it with every fibre of his being.


	14. Tartarus

**Writing has slowed down lately due to pressure from studying but I'm still continuing this story - don't worry too much. Enjoy this chapter :).**

* * *

Above ground, winter reigned.

Everywhere the Goddess of Agriculture walked turned from green to rotten brown, and ice and frost covered the soil. Crops perished within minutes of her passing, and famine struck like a hammer-blow to the world. Farmers beseeched their goddess to return the summer, but Demeter heard none of their prayers. She was beyond reason, beyond thought. Only the return of her sweet daughter could have restored her sanity. The gods looking on were powerless to stop the starvation in the world. Locking Demeter away would do no good, because only she could stop the famine, and there was no way of forcing her to calm down. Zeus raged in Olympus, angrily railing about his insane sister.

But while the gods looked on with anger and shock, the world was dying from a mother's wrath.

* * *

Uncaring and unaware of the turmoil he had set in motion in the Overworld, Hades was holding court.

Before him had come two of the Judges of the Underworld; Minos, keeper of the keys to Tartarus, and Rhadamanthus, the Lord of Elysium. Minos was a vicious beast of a creature, with a horned head and pinprick yellow eyes. When he moved, the ground literally shook. Looking at him for any great length of time was disturbing even for most Underworld deities, but Hades had no problem in staring him down. Rhadamanthus was quite unusual for a member of Hades' court in that he wore a silver cloak that fell to his feet, and had a grey beard that fell almost as far as that. His head was bald and his expression was one of utter stone.

"The dead have grown in numbers of late," said Rhadamanthus.

"The Olympians are playing their usual games with mortal lives," Hades replied, amidst concerned mutterings. "This is nothing new."

"We have come to request assistance in our eternal task," Minos rumbled.

The court growled and whispered in agreement with such a request. The dead had to be judged after all, and it was an enormous task for so small a group of Judges.

"As you wish," Hades said. "You have my permission to share your arbitrating powers with a select few whom you deem worthy."

At the side of the hall, Persephone slipped in. The room was impressively vast, with firelight everywhere and enormous columns. Fear gripped her briefly as she beheld the gathered court, consisting of such hideous beasts and malevolent gods and goddesses. Serrated fangs, bulging white eyes and clawed harpy talons glinted in the firelight. Horrors which once were beyond her imagination; yet none of them meant her any harm, she convinced herself. Why fear them so much?

She crept to a column and partially hid behind it. Despite herself, an adventurous whim had drawn her to Hades' court. Wandering aimlessly about the palace grew tiresome, and besides, as his wife-to-be, surely she had the right to witness such proceedings?

The Lord of the Underworld sat on his throne like a true ruler, relaxed yet attentive, listening yet firm. Persephone had little understanding or interest in what they were discussing, but she could feel from the atmosphere in the hall that each beast or deity respected and approved of Hades' decisions. She watched him, feeling an odd sense of familiarity with this, yet knowing she should hate him. Remembering her visit to Olympus when she had been staring at him across the Meeting Hall, Persephone smiled secretly. The smile was quickly and purposefully wiped from her face when she reminded herself that this was a god who had kidnapped her and intended to force her to marry him against her will.

Next to Hades' throne, she noted, was a smaller chair under construction, the colour of tree bark. It took a moment for her to realise that this was for her. Imagining herself sitting up there next to the Lord of the Dead was a prospect that both terrified and entranced her.

The court dispersed after a short while. It appeared that Hades made all the decisions here, and these members of court were mere watchers. Many of the creatures passing Persephone gave her lingering glances, most of which she avoided meeting. None of the eyes seemed menacing, but neither were they friendly or welcoming. The hall emptied fast, until there were only three gods remaining aside from herself and her intended. Hades rose to his feet, giving orders to Thanatos and the two others. Only when she drew away from the shadows did the Lord of the Dead notice her presence.

"Persephone?" he called across the hall, frowning at her. "Why have you come here?"

The Goddess of Spring, appearing cautious although not trembling, drew nearer, deciding to get straight to the point.

"You promised me a tour of the Underworld not long ago," she said, not meeting his gaze. "I would like to hold you to that offer."

Pleasantly surprised, Hades apparently forgot his underlings and strode towards her, dark boots thudding on the tiled floor.

"If such a thing would please you, then by all means I will not break my word," he told her, his eyes if not his voice betraying his delight at the prospect. "I shall take you to the Elysian Fields, where…"

"I want to see Tartarus," Persephone interjected sharply.

For an instant Hades face darkened. Clearly he was highly unused to being interrupted, and for a moment Persephone thought she had gone too far. But just as quickly, his expression returned to normal.

"Why, sweet girl?" he asked, bemused. "The misery of the dead upset you so much, even on the Fields of Asphodel. I would not want you to be traumatised by suffering."

"I want to see it."

Having shuffled over to them silently, Thanatos chimed in. Persephone was still unsure what to think of the foul-looking God of Death, but so far he had been more or less courteous towards her.

"Tartarus is not only terrifying," he pointed out in an oily voice, "but it is dangerous, even for an immortal as powerful as our king. And myself."

"I know," she said. "I still would like to see it."

"But why, Persephone?" Hades asked her.

The truth was that she barely understood her own desire to see the darkest recess of the Underworld. Part of her knew that until she did, she would always fear this place. She would always hold terror for the unknown dangers, the foreboding darkness and the ominous unseen corners. If it was her fate to be forced to remain, then at least perhaps she deserved not to always be afraid.

"If I'm to be the queen of this world," she said slowly, "I may as well see all of it."

Without even meeting his gaze, Persephone could sense Hades thrum with something more ferocious than hope.

"Are you offering your consent to our marriage?" he asked, moving closer.

"I didn't say that," Persephone retreated, shifting subtly out of his reach. "But it would please me if you took me to see the rest of your realm."

After a moment, she glanced at his face nervously, and saw Hades appraising her as he deliberated. Behind him, Thanatos was giving the Goddess of Spring an odd look, as if truly seeing her for the first time. Had her odd request really been so confounding? The Lord of the Underworld nodded after a moment.

"Then I shall take you there," he decided.

* * *

The chariot wheels spun around at high speed, from time to time sending out bright sparks where they struck the rocky ground of the Fields of Punishment.

The screaming resounded in Persephone's head. Back over Asphodel, the wailing had been desolate, but here it was pained, demented. Eternal punishment was carried out here, until the souls finally ceased to be and were absorbed into the atmosphere of the Underworld. She could see ghostly figures slipping in and out of crevices and caves beneath the craggy path they followed. Flames were everywhere, leaping and reaching, seeking victims and devouring the darkness.

In the chariot, she stood with Hades, clutching his hand willingly to keep herself anchored in sanity. All the while the souls roared the fury and pain stored up in their short, vicious mortal lives. Hades' hand was firm and cool to the touch, and their fingers fit together with an ease that disturbed her. Persephone tried to focus only on the horrors around her, not personal horror at her own traitorous emotions. The chariot was pulled by a fire wyrm, a flaming reptile with glowing orange scales, and the reins were held by a misshapen creature with grey skin that resembled a gargoyle in all respects.

The Fields of Asphodel had merged with the Fields of Punishment like colours of her paints back home. The ground became rent with deep caves and crevices, which made this place seem more like the Valleys of Punishment than the Fields. Hades told her there were several unseen levels to the Fields of Asphodel as well, somewhere north of the palace. The vastness of this world was beginning to sink in for Persephone; surely it was even greater than the mortal world. It was far more saddening, though. Sometimes she would catch sight of a soul chained to the surface of rocks, or one knelt on the ground, weeping and begging for an end to something that she could not see. Induced hallucinations, Hades explained. Many of these souls were made to relive their crimes over and over from all perspectives until guilt destroyed them.

"This is too cruel," she whispered, but Hades heard her anyway.

"They sealed their own fates," he said without caring.

Suffering was unnecessary, she thought, but did not say so out loud. This sickening treatment of criminals was his entire purpose in immortality, and criticism of it would probably not be appreciated. The chariot drew towards a dark cave-like structure which was constructed from black stones. The wheels ceased turning. Gorgons stood guard, still and staring with evil eyes. Red glyphs were etched around the edge of the entrance, and even though Persephone couldn't properly read them, the message was brutally clear. All those who passed here did so at their own risk.

A flash of steel made her look at Hades. In the dim flame light, his dark appearance seemed regal and imposing, a force that could not be reckoned with here, nor would any dare to. He had drawn his jewelled sword, and shot her a warning look.

"Are you certain you must do this?" he asked her.

Persephone looked from the Lord of the Underworld towards the ominous entrance to Tartarus. Amidst the screams of the punished souls, she took in a shaking breath.

"Yes," she said, almost as much to convince herself as to convince Hades.

Then he gave her a long look, and something akin to amusement flickered over his icy face. Persephone ignored the way her insides turned over and steeled her shaking nerves. Hades looked away, and sharply gestured for the gates to be opened. The gorgons stood back, and by some force of will, the wall barring the entrance to hell began to come downwards, swallowed by the ground. The deformed creature holding the reins of the chariot whipped the fire wyrm and it growled before slithering forward on scaly legs. Darkness beckoned, then swallowed them whole.

Tartarus was reputedly as deep below the Underworld as the Underworld was deep below the Overworld. Said to be surrounded four times in darkness, Persephone knew it was a place of true horrors. Doubts clutched her heart as they descended in total darkness. The fire wyrm glowed brightly, but beyond its flickering orange light, there was nothing. Behind background clattering of wheels the wailing died away, and then only the pounding of her heart could be heard. Hades' hand moved up from her wrist to encircle her upper arm, and despite herself, she drew close to his iron presence. It took a long time for anything to appear other than blackness, even though the chariot was moving at a fast pace. She noticed the air heat up by a degree.

That was when the screaming started.

At first she imagined it was the wind, before recalling with chagrin that obviously there was no wind in the Underworld. The screaming, growing loud and furiously in intensity, began to make her tremble. As they descended, it became a constant roar that reverberated from all directions. Then it was from directly below them, and the chariot drew to a complete stop. Persephone could see something moving around below, slimy and threatening. She watched as Hades muttered words of enchantment, and to her surprise, a green fireball shot from the tip of his sword.

Persephone stared in horrified fascination.

They were parked on a path above an enormous chasm, and for a moment she saw nothing but blackness. Then, as the fireball began to come down into the chasm, she saw the souls, and had to hold back a cry that threatened to escape her lips. Like a river of bodies, blackened, scorched by unseen flames, ghosts crawled over each other. Their wailing was endless, angry. She could see no walls nor ground, just the crazed eyes and tangled limbs of a thousand mortal souls. Several were tearing each other apart, no blood. Just more rage and guttural shrieking. On the close warm air was the echo of chains rattling far below, and a sound like the footsteps of a giant.

Overwhelmed, Persephone's legs became weak. Hades' grip held her up, and she saw the ice in his expression. No pity existed in him for these criminals.

"This is not just my will," he told her, regarding the suffering souls as one regards rats. "Nor is this merely the will of Zeus. This is how it has always been in order to keep the eternal balance in the universe. Do not weep for them, my love. They perverted their existence, and have their just punishments. Hear their screams and rejoice in the justice of my realm."

Persephone refused to weep, because then her intended would only say that he had warned her she could not bear to witness this.

"Take me back," she said in a weak voice.

He nodded as the fire died away, and the chariot came about carefully. Persephone could understand why a balance had to be achieved between good and evil, but still felt upset by the plight of these mortal souls. Hades was entirely composed of a cold harshness that must have been born of necessity for carrying out such a cruel task.

When the limited firelight finally returned and they emerged back on the Fields of Punishment, it seemed like daylight. She stole glances at her husband-to-be. How ancient were those dark eyes? How many ages and kingdoms had risen and fallen above his world without him caring? And, possibly forefront in her mind, why did she suddenly feel more alive in the company of the Lord of the Dead than she had ever felt with anyone else?


	15. Persephone's Grove

There is nothing harder to understand than one's own emotions.

Two days from the wedding, Persephone was more confused than she had ever known herself to be. As far as she could recall, her emotions had always been turbulent, but at least before she could have blamed their turbulence on her confined existence. Now, it was as if she was forcing herself into feeling one way when she wanted something entirely different. Not understanding was more frightening somehow than a thousand trips to Tartarus. Hating Hades was becoming exhausting, especially when he treated her so respectfully.

Time means nothing to the gods.

Except when one is waiting for something.

Time seemed to have taken on a corporeal meaning for Hades. It was the distance between where he was and when he would have the Goddess of Spring bound to his side forever. He had not slept for a long time, unable to rest because his dreams were too unbearable. To top off all the turmoil, reports of massive overcrowding on the far bank of the Styx had reached his ears. Something serious was happening in the Overworld, and he felt certain it had something to do with his actions.

On the fourth day since he took Persephone, the Lord of the Underworld had a surprise for her.

"I thought perhaps you felt apart from yourself," he said to her. "Come, I have something I believe you will like. It may help you feel more at home."

Persephone agreed passively, apparently having given up on ideas of escape. He led her out of the palace and they boarded a boat down the River Acheron, which took them to the place where he had arranged the surprise. Hades hoped this would please her, as barely anything he had done so far had met her approval.

From the bank they walked towards a valley devoid of souls, almost as dark as ink. However, in the middle of this valley was an area of flattened soil, and here bands of sunlight burst through a tunnel above. They carved a bold path to the soil, and there lit up a large area of ground. Attendant Shades busied themselves constructing paths and raised rivers of earth. Hades watched her frowning face as she tried to figure out what it meant. Then realisation sparkled in her eyes, and to Hades' great relief, a hesitant smile crept onto her pretty face.

"Is this…" She hesitated, as if afraid to speak aloud her hope.

"It is a garden, sweet one," Hades said, gesturing to the soil and light. "Your garden. The mirrors reflect light down from the Overworld, and the soil is wet because it is so near to the river. I don't know much about plants, but I assume you could grow things here."

Persephone had never been so touched by anything in her life. Forgetting entirely that he was her captor and she was supposed to hate him, she seized Hades' hand in her own.

"Thank you!" she gasped, full of an unprecedented excitement. "This is…this is wonderful."

The Lord of the Underworld felt the gentle warmth and pressure of her small hand, and was filled with the now familiar sense of powerful infatuation. To see her look on him with gratitude and not resentment reminded him of that single precious moment after he had inadvertently saved her from Ares. That moment had sparked off this entire insane series of events.

"That is the first time I've seen you smile since Olympus," he told her, and her gorgeous smile only deepened.

"Really?"

Persephone's hand lingered on his for a few moments. Something undefinable passed between their eyes. There was no need to describe it to each other, no need to explain the inexplicable. The moment ended fast, because the flurry of confusion in her head was enough to overwhelm even her gratitude. She retracted her hand quickly, and walked towards a half-constructed flower bed.

Hades watched his betrothed with adoration. There she was, this girl who had been so terrified to begin with, giving out orders to the servants on how to properly arrange the flowers and irrigate the raised beds. Her freckled cheeks were glowing with delight at finally having something to do, even if it was just gardening. Although, he admitted, gardening probably meant more to a Goddess of Life than to him. The way Persephone was managing the Shades made him even more hopeful that she would start to enjoy her existence by his side. In her was the inherent potential of all goddesses for ruling. With a little time and tuning at his instruction, she could be a true queen.

Allowing himself to become redundant in this project, Hades stood back and simply admired the way her dark red hair and emerald eyes shone under sunlight.

"You look beautiful, today, Persephone," he said to his future queen as she flounced past. She stopped, shrugging almost carelessly.

"Perhaps I am happy," she said in a melancholy tone. "It has been so long since I knew what the word meant. But is this the pomegranate talking, or is it me?"

"I think it is you," Hades responded.

Persephone met his powerful gaze. His seriousness was without a crack, as always. Suddenly she felt a mischievous need to tease.

"How much do you love me?" she asked, folding slender arms.

"More than any god has ever loved a goddess."

"How would you know?" she returned, a ghost of a smirk playing at the edge of her lips.

"Surely any more love would kill even an immortal," Hades intoned, then frowned and seemingly realised that she was making fun. "Are you teasing me, Persephone?" he asked, raising a thick dark eyebrow.

"Who would have the audacity to tease the Lord of the Underworld?" she said, not quite laughing but allowing the urge to fill her lungs.

Seeds were brought to her, and with child-like excitement she filled her hands with the tiny shells. The soil graciously accepted them. Having slipped her sandals off, it was not long before her footsteps caused the flowers to sprout and explode from the earth. Everywhere she walked, the germinating seeds responded to her presence and burst up in fountains of jade leaves and determinedly vibrant stalks. Persephone felt her heart lift at the chance to use her powers like this. In her mother's garden, the plants were grown and luscious, but here, they were new and young. This was all her own work, and it made her divine spirit thrive. There were entire bushes of exotic flowers in her wake within the hour, and vivacious colours filled a once empty chasm.

Hades' infatuated observation of his wife-to-be were interrupted by the arrival of Momus, God of Blame. Several Underworld deities had gathered some distance away, giving this orgy of plant life a disgusted appraisal. Momus, like the rest, squinted under the light.

"My lord Hades," he whispered, casting a furtive glance towards the beaming Persephone. "Hermes has come with news from above."

Hades' face darkened. Zeus had sent his messenger boy. So be it.

Persephone glanced up as her intended came near, and hesitantly smiled. Something had irritated him, but his eyes held no anger for her.

"I have to take care of an issue back at the palace, my love," he explained. "I will be back."

"I understand," she replied, wondering why disappointment filled her chest.

The Lord of the Underworld hesitated, glancing at the onlookers. If there had not been so many curious eyes, he may have kissed her goodbye. Feeling such a public display of affection would do his valued infamous reputation no good, he resisted the instinct.

"Goodbye, Persephone," he said shortly, and turned to go, his black cloak swishing on the newly laid path with every purposeful step.

The Goddess of Spring returned to her tending, ignoring for once the turmoil in her heart for the sake of enjoying a fleeting moment. By the Fates, it had been long enough since she had last allowed herself to feel content about anything.

* * *

In the throne room, Hermes was red-faced and flustered, both conveying and feeling the anger sent from the King of the Gods. In staccato syllables he informed Hades of Demeter's bottomless rage, and the slow but certain destruction in the Overworld. Sitting stiffly on his throne, Hades grimaced internally, knowing well the extent of Demeter's anger. Fears expressed by his minions of war above ground had fallen short of the severity of the disaster.

"If you do not return her daughter," Hermes enunciated with emphatic gestures, "I am afraid she intends to starve everything."

The Messenger of the Gods floated several inches above the tiled floor with those ridiculous fluttering winged sandals of his. Having finished his speech, he fell silent and looked uncomfortable under Hades' unblinking glare. His concern for Persephone seemed genuine. This was not just a message passed on; it was clearly an issue affecting everyone in the Overworld. Despite this, Hades' decision did not take much deliberation.

"I will not return my wife," he said levelly.

Hermes balked.

"But Demeter's anger will not be contained!" he exclaimed.

"That is not my concern."

"The suffering in the Overworld affects the Underworld just as badly!" Hermes claimed angrily, gesturing vaguely towards the surroundings of the palace. "I saw on the journey in how crowded the Styx is. The souls are spilling into the realm of the living, disrupting the balance between kingdoms. Zeus orders you to return her."

The Lord of the Dead was resolute. Nothing mattered more than having Persephone here. Demeter would calm down given time, he convinced himself. Things would return to normal above ground.

"I will not return her," he repeated, now with cruel ice in his voice.

Jaw working, Hermes glanced around.

"Where is she, besides?" he asked impudently. "Shackled in a dungeon? Persephone is benevolent and good. She deserves better than a prison."

With little more than a nod from their master, Shade guards lunged forward. Spears dug into Hermes' neck, and he froze. To his credit he barely flinched, but beads of sweat broke out on his forehead.

"Return to your master, messenger boy," the Lord of the Dead ordered him with a dismissive wave of his pale hand. "Tell Zeus my answer."

With some attitude, Hermes was escorted out of the palace. Even out the doors, Hades could still hear accusations of kidnapping and rape thrown in his direction. He seethed internally, knowing if the message-carrying whelp was not his main source of communication with Olympus Hermes would have been ripped to shreds by Cerberus.

Hades unclenched his fists and hoped that Demeter would give up her vengeful crusade of motherly grief.


	16. Invitations

Despite everything that had happened in the Overworld, wedding preparations went ahead. The palace was full of activity and every god, goddess or fearful beast in the Underworld had come to admire Persephone's beauty or indulge in the plenty of food and drink. So much company did not suit Hades' taste, but he was willing to suffer it since the company was there to celebrate such a wonderful occasion.

Hours after Persephone returned from her garden, they sat together and ate at the one end of an enormous black stone table. A candelabra cast quivering flames over their faces. It was the first time since he had taken her that the Goddess of Spring had acquiesced to sharing a meal with him, and Hades relished watching her eat. The food had been painstakingly carried from the Overworld, and there was a selection of vegetables and breads. Persephone was a vegetarian, so Hades did not eat any meat either. The atmosphere between them was static with tension, but not uncomfortable for once. Hades barely consumed anything himself, instead just watching her ruby lips and the determined way she speared each mouthful of food.

With a glinting letter opener, he ripped the seal of a scroll handed to him an hour ago. Hestia's hurried scrawl greeted his eyes inside.

 _Hades,  
You cannot imagine my surprise to hear your news. Persephone…to think mere days ago you asked me about Demeter's daughter, and I did not realise that you were asking for any reason other than sheer curiosity. I will come, but I must warn you about how dangerous the situation is above ground. Demeter is highly displeased that you stole her daughter. The plants become rotten, and the people are starving. Snow covers the earth. Poseidon has threatened to storm the Underworld, although it's probably just bluster. I advise you to return the girl, not marry her, but then you have never listened to my advice.  
I'll see you in person soon.  
Hestia._

Pleased, Hades folded the scroll again and threw it to a servant to dispose of. Persephone followed it with her beautiful green eyes, but did not question its content. She dabbed the edge of her perfect mouth with the edge of a cloth, and met his scrutinising gaze.

"Our wedding is in two days," Hades reminded her quietly. Her emotionless face did not change. "Will you willingly give me your heart then?" he asked.

"No," she replied.

"I love you, Persephone!" he said, covering one of her hands with his. The warmth of her skin was wonderful. "You will be the beauty to my foulness, the life to my death. You will be adored and worshipped right next to me for eternity."

Persephone looked down at her lap and back within two seconds, confusion radiating from her like smoke.

"If you love me so much, prove it," she told him cautiously.

"How?"

"I miss my mother more than I could have thought I ever would," Persephone sighed. "It hurts me to think of her – she must be so miserable. Return me to the surface, and I promise I will come back and give you my heart."

Hades searched her eyes, not wanting to believe she would deceive him. But then, he had tricked her into staying here, so trust was not something that came naturally in this relationship.

"I can't do that," he said, shaking his head.

Persephone retracted her hand, sadness returning to her face.

"Do you not trust me to come back?" she asked.

"It is your mother," Hades explained matter-of-factly. "I know she would never let me have you again."

Her mouth opened and closed, no words emerging. Yes, she knew there was no hope of Demeter letting her go if she returned to the gardens. But if there was any way of escaping her own growing bond to the Underworld and its ruler, she would have seized it in that moment. More out of a fear of her own changing heart than a fear of Hades, she got to her feet and promptly stormed out of the dining room.

She knew her own way back to her room, and the Shade guards trailed in her wake. Purple skirts twirled around her slender ankles.

Hades cursed internally when she was gone. One more day after this, he thought. Then she was his, and this unbearable wait would be over. So deep and perturbing were his brooding thoughts that he accidentally impaled his palm with the letter opener. His own dark red blood ran down his wrist over blue veins. It had been an especially long time since he had bled. Persephone, he mused darkly, was worth bleeding for.

While he lay unsleeping later, the depth of silence was taunting. He considered for hours the possibility of traversing the distance between his bed and hers. It was only a few corridors away, and the prospect was more than tempting. However, four thousand years force a person to learn some patience. Time, after all, means very little to the gods.

What was one more lonely night?


	17. Hecate

**Mystery makes life interesting, doesn't it? This chapter is CERTAINLY mysterious (more or less).**

* * *

The soon to be Queen of the Underworld sat in her bedchamber. Unable to sleep, she sat on her black silk sheets with her knees wrapped up and her fingers twirling a strand of her darkening red hair. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Hades' dark gaze engraved on her eyelids, and imagined she felt him kiss her hair like he had days ago.

The palace was nearly silent at this time, so it surprised her to hear a knock on her door. Without waiting for a response, it swung open. Persephone drew her sheets up over her bare legs and tensed.

"My lady Persephone," said the crone who entered, dropping into a low bow that would have suited a man more than a woman.

The crone had a mane of black curls which were oddly luscious and thick for such a foul countenance. Dark blue eyes shone in an otherwise repellent face of warts and puckered brown skin. A shapeless black robe covered every inch of said skin save for crooked hands and a leathery neck. Her back was bent at an odd angle, like it had been broken and poorly fused together again.

Persephone, having expected someone quite different knocking on her door, glared at the crone.

"Who are you?" she demanded in what she hoped sounded like an authoritative voice. "What do you want?"

"I should be insulted," the intruder replied with a haughty expression. "I am Hecate, Goddess of Witchcraft. Come, I have been instructed to show you something."

"Instructed by whom?" Persephone asked, confused.

"Those who control even the gods," Hecate replied cryptically. "Come."

For a moment Persephone hesitated. One the one hand, this witch Hecate seemed threatening on a dark, traitorous level, and she could have any reason for taking her from her bedchamber. On the other hand, she was getting no sleep anyway.

The Goddess of Spring swung her legs out of the bed and grasped a shawl from her wardrobe.

The near empty palace was cold in her bare feet, reminiscent of when she had arrived, a trembling girl and a captive. Had that really been just days ago? It seemed like a lifetime of confusion and slowly changing desires. Hecate led her down a flight of stairs which was unfamiliar. Of all the deities and beasts the Persephone had been introduced to, Hecate she was sure had not been among their number. Was the Goddess of Witchcraft shy, or secretive? Or perhaps she just lacked courtesy. The latter started to seem likely.

Hecate turned and shot her an unsettling grin of blackened teeth at the bottom of a staircase, and led her into a new room beyond a door of stone. Potions and cauldrons lined two walls, and the other two were covered with shelves of ancient scrolls and books beyond count. Jars upon jars of disgusting items covered every available surface, and an enclosed creature with ten legs rattled a cage suspended from the ceiling. A foul smell filled the air, and a sense that something was very wrong here. Dark magic clung threateningly in the air, something any goddess could have sensed. Persephone stood near the door, clutching her shawl close and turning up her nose at a jar of blue, slimy worms.

"Look."

Across the room, Hecate had produced an enormous full-length mirror. It was tall and plain save for the inscription written around the wooden frame in black script. Persephone knew it was magical without having to take even a step closer.

"What shall I see?" she asked with suspicion.

"Who can tell?" Hecate mused. "You? Me? No. Only the world."

Curiosity got the better of her sensible nature, and she crossed the room. The Goddess of Witchcraft smiled unnervingly as Persephone gazed at her own reflection. For a second nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Then, almost imperceptibly, the glass rippled and the reflection changed, smiling with a joy that Persephone could not recall ever actually feeling. In her arms appeared a child; an infant. The baby was wriggling and gurgling, and gazing through the pane of glass with wise eyes of black amidst a sweet face of white.

Persephone's mouth dropped open and she drew backwards. Her reflection and the baby vanished.

"What was that?" she asked uneasily, looking for an explanation from Hecate. "Whose child was that?"

"The child is mine," Hecate said with a grin. "But she is born of you, my lady, and our Lord Hades."

Lost for words, Persephone attempted and failed to decide how she felt about that. Hecate came closer, intent in her prophecy.

"I have seen her many times now," the Goddess of Witchcraft explained. "My fate, my child. She is my pupil. But up until now I had not known where she comes from."

She pressed a gnarled hand to Persephone's midriff.

"You must marry the Lord of the Underworld," she hissed. "And through that union I will have my child."

Backing from her touch, Persephone shot Hecate a look of disgust.

"Get away from me!" she snapped. "Whether I have a child or not, I would raise her myself, not give her to you."

"The mirror does not lie."

"Then it is mistaken," Persephone said angrily. "Do not speak to me again."

The Goddess of Spring rushed from that creepy, magical room, not looking back. Her nightgown trailed on the palace floor as she made her careful way back to her chambers. What could possibly have been the purpose in revealing such a prophecy? A harpy examined her with fiery eyes as she passed, but Persephone was, for once, too distracted to care about the watching eyes of monsters.

On reaching a closed door, she suddenly stopped, hand poised over the handle. This was not her bedroom. Feeling embarrassed and relieved that she had realised this before it was too late, Persephone retreated and found her way to her own chambers. Only when she had her head on her own pillow did she think whose room it actually had been, and lamented internally about the reckless agitation that had almost taken her to her captor's arms.


	18. Destruction

**I had to include this chapter - I find Zeus and Hera's relationship most amusing.**

* * *

Lightning crashed outside the walls of Olympus, the combined result of Zeus' rage and Demeter's revenge winter. The hot summer had vanished like steam, swallowed by the freezing rot that was clinging to the mortal realm. Queen Hera did not bat a made-up eyelid as the thunder boomed. Her husband paced next to the window of their chambers, pacing furiously. Hera was reclining not far away, filing a nail and pretending she did not care.

"That stubborn excuse for a woman is destroying everything she is supposed to be the guardian of!"

The King of the Gods stamped his foot like a tall muscly child whose favourite toy had been broken. Hera rolled her violet eyes behind his back, having listened to such a tirade all afternoon. Listening to his complaints grew very tiresome.

"If you hadn't slept with her, none of this would be a problem," she pointed out, shrugging as if it didn't destroy her happiness that Zeus slept with everything in a skirt.

After a pause, he rounded on her.

"What?" he snapped derisively, flecks of spit flying from his golden grey beard. Hera noticed the thunder become clearer in its fury, and the grey soup of clouds outside roiled and turned.

"If you hadn't taken Demeter to bed," she repeated, still examining her perfect cuticles, "Persephone would not have been born, Hades would not have seized her, and Demeter would not now be acting like the crazed cow she is."

Zeus gave her a withering look.

"Oh, yes, blame me as usual," he snarled. "Your jealousy makes you so unappealing."

It seemed like everything was his fault on some level, Hera mused, but did not dare say so aloud.

"You also shouldn't have let Hades take her daughter," she added instead. "You must have known that would cause problems, darling."

"I didn't tell him to kidnap her!" roared Zeus, throwing up his hands. "How stupid do you think I am?! I told him to talk to Demeter."

"You just said, "don't let this turn into an argument"" Hera snorted. "Well, that was well handled."

Zeus fumed, and seized a ceramic vase within reach. It smashed into a million pieces near to Hera's feet, making her start. The pieces skidded across the tiles.

"The last thing I need is my "loving" wife telling me what I've done wrong!" Zeus raged, pointing at her with vindication.

She had gone too far. Over three thousand years married to Zeus had taught Hera when the line had been reached in her ability to rile him. It had also taught her how to calm him. Becoming immediately contrite, she rose to her feet and sashayed over to him, pieces of broken ceramic cracking underfoot. She stroked his bearded jaw and smooth chest.

"I am sorry, my darling," she whispered, demurely lowering her eyes to the floor. "What do you need?"

"I need my brother to do what he is told to do for once," the King of the Gods grouched. "And I need you to shut up about it."

Hera nodded. He liked it when she agreed with him.

"As you wish."

If Zeus was anything, he was predictable. He kissed her roughly, hands wrapping around her waist. Hera let him. They were having a precious good year in their long marriage with the birth of a son, and to spoil that seemed wasteful. His hands slipped down over her rear, and she pressed her breasts to his chest, all the while their mouths locked in a power struggle.

A knock on the door made Zeus spin away from Hera in renewed anger. The Queen of the Gods sighed as the unwanted visitor received a vicious verbal beating, and glared into the storm brewing outside. The mortal realm was dying, and it was Demeter's fault. Hera had once enjoyed the company of her sister, but since Zeus' affair with her, Demeter had become an unacknowledged enemy. Jealousy was a drug that Hera was addicted to. The Queen of the Gods found herself maliciously hoping that Hades had destroyed Demeter's silly bastard daughter and crushed her spirit.


	19. To Make You Love Me

Less than a day from the wedding, the garden given to the captive Goddess of Spring as a gift by her captor was flourishing. Persephone's power had made the plants grow impossibly fast, and the Shades had been working tirelessly on the paths and flower beds. Without her presence, the flowers certainly never would have managed to grow, but they had, now standing tall and proud. Petals of all hues and intensity sparkled under the stolen light from above, and greenery snaked around every available surface.

Hades walked with Persephone, his soul lightened to see her glow with content pride. In the presence of this life and beauty she was at peace with her natural instincts, and looked more gorgeous than ever. The Goddess of Spring was content in his adoring presence, and had chosen not to mention the incident with Hecate. The witch had not bothered her again, so she decided to ignore the prediction. Whatever had been the reason for revealing it, Persephone preferred not to think of it.

"What must I do to make you love me?" Hades asked, quite out of the blue.

"I don't know," she answered him with a hesitant half-smile. It was a game they were playing; one he was desperate to win.

"Does the garden not please you?" he asked, frowning.

"Oh, yes," Persephone nodded. "It's beautiful. And, most of all, it's mine. I've never had anything like this that was entirely mine."

Irrationally, she skipped from his side and whirled in a circle, her dress rustling like paper in the breeze. Colour and blackness blurred around her, and red hair slipped across her nose. Quickly, strong hands closed over her spinning arms and Hades pulled her close. Breath was stolen from her chest as she looked into his deep dark eyes, flaming with desire. Afraid to provoke that desire and too powerless to resist it, Persephone just focused on the strength of his chest under her hands.

"Come," he said, deeply, quieter than should have been possible for one so intimidating. "There's something I'd like to show you."

Hades showing her things in his world was becoming a regular occasion. Just that morning he had taken her to the Elysian Fields. The land reserved for rewarded souls seemed like a world within the Underworld, full of light and blissful silence. Persephone could have remained there for a long time, listening to the quiet concord of benevolent souls in eternal tranquillity. However, she had begun to drift into a false sense of serenity. Apparently a god could be drawn into death by staying too long in that beautiful world.

So, certain that she had seen both the best and the worst that the Underworld had to offer, Persephone followed Hades beyond the garden and deep into the valley. Every brush of his hand against her arm made her shiver with feelings she didn't truly comprehend. Considering his appearance, she found she still did not find him physically attractive. Compared to most Olympus-dwelling gods, he had a sickly pallor of snow. His brows were thick and his hair lank and greasy. Yet she felt undeniable waves of something strange and incredibly indescribable every time he looked in her direction.

They entered a cave which smelt like dry mould. She cried out and began giggling hysterically when she tripped on rocks, and Hades swept his arm around her, supporting her over the worst of the craggy darkness. Unable to see anything, she purely following the sound of his voice and the guiding direction of his steps. Not far from there, though, they emerged into a curious cave. Several steps from the entrance tunnel was the edge of a silvery pool of still liquid which seemed to emit light. Stalactites hung from the ceiling like pointing fingers, and in the pool were floating pieces of what looked like fabric.

"What is this?" Persephone whispered, jumping when her voice echoed loudly.

"This, my love," Hades gestured, "is where the Fates send their discarded weavings of destiny when it has run its course."

Understanding dawned. The pieces of fabric in the silvery water were pieces of weaving. She caught glimpses of fractured stories in the water. As she watched, a piece of tapestry appeared in mid-air just above the centre of the pool and gently dropped into it.

"Amazing," she breathed.

Hades reached a long arm over the surface of the pool, and the water rippled. A piece of weaving emerged from the reluctant water and flew gracefully to his hand. He showed it to her; the moment when he fell in love, captured in a simple image. In her mind's eye, she saw the white glare of Olympus and recalled her terror of Ares.

"Does the future lie in this pool?" she wondered, thinking of Hecate's prediction, but he shook his head.

"No. Only the past and present. The Fates keep our futures to themselves for fear we would use such knowledge for selfish gain."

Cautiously, Persephone reached out and a weaving flew to her hand without her really giving it much thought. Sewn on was an image of herself, reading a tapestry under the dark gaze of Hades. The present.

"Could this world be fuller of mysteries and secrets?" she said, shaking her head in bemusement.

Hades raised a thick eyebrow.

"Is it not truer, sweet girl, that the Overworld is far more mysterious?" he postulated. "And it is far more chaotic. Things change above ground, while here they are constant. One could spend immortality seeing all there is to see here, but in the ever-altering Overworld such a feat is impossible."

Sudden pain filled her heart. Persephone may have been coming to terms with her imprisonment here and even learning to enjoy the attention of the Lord of the Underworld, but the wonders of the Overworld had not escaped memory. She longed for energising sunlight, the trickle of clear waters, the refreshing bite of wind upon her face and the rush of a burning sunset. Perhaps most of all, she longed for her mother's warm embrace and scolding gaze. Demeter would be so worried, Persephone sighed to herself.

"I wish we had never met," she despaired openly. Hades shot her a look of angry hurt. "I wish I was not beautiful," Persephone continued petulantly, ignoring his expression. "I wish I had been born foul, so that you didn't look at me and love me, if that is still what you call it. I wish I was not a goddess, not the daughter of Demeter. I wish I were no-one; an ugly mortal girl who had no other concerns but the farming of a field and the changing of the seasons. Say what you will, Hades, I would change my very soul to escape your love. To escape myself."

Having let loose this rant, Persephone fell silent and sad. For a moment tension simmered in the air between god and trapped goddess.

Slowly, Hades moved with the determined surety of a hunter. His cold hands clasped her face tightly, and she saw in his eyes the covetousness that her mother had always warned her about in gods.

"Your soul is mine," he growled with more raw emotion than she had ever seen him express. "You are mine. You will never escape this love, and you cannot change your own soul. So stop fighting me, Persephone, because you don't have the smallest glimmer of a chance of winning."

His hands were possessively holding her face, and he ran his thumb over her cheek with what could scarcely be described as gentleness. The unadulterated madness in his eyes made her heart pound so hard she was sure it echoed in the cave. Robbed of any chance of resistance, she did nothing to stop Hades from leaning down and pressing his pale lips to hers. Heady delirium took over control of her senses. His mouth moved on hers, demanding and uncompromising, and his cold fingers tangled in her wavy hair. Persephone felt all resolve melting away as heat filled her veins. Subconsciously, she breathed in the dusty smell of his hair and her fists clenched around the edges of his cloak.

Time means nothing to the gods.

That first kiss could have lasted hours or mere seconds. It was followed by another, and then another after that. Intoxicated by the sweet taste of her lips, Hades had no wish to end the embrace any time soon. A triumphant fanfare blared in his head, louder than the screaming of souls in Tartarus. The soft velvet of her skin under his fingers and the way she trembled fuelled the crazed desire within his icy exterior. A fast pulse in her neck playing in harmony to his own. Persephone was everything he was not, and he wanted everything she was all at once; her kindness, her beauty, her sadness and her joy.

When at last he released her lips, Persephone backed away from him, refusing to say another word or meet his intense gaze.

They returned to the palace in contemplative, tense silence, and witnessed the preparations in the throne room for their wedding. Gods and goddesses offered their approval to the overlord of his chosen bride, whether they truly felt approval or not. Persephone sat on a lonely balcony for hours, musing on her abrupt loss of childhood and blissful innocence. She walked in a suffocating world of monsters and ghosts, and mourned briefly her lost existence as the sweet daughter of Demeter. That garden had been her prison, but at least she had always felt secure there. Of course, that had been foolish in itself, because Hades had been able to steal her as easily as pulling the petals from a rose.

As the appointed hour drew ever closer, both Underworld and Overworld held their breaths, each because of the ensuing chaos. Time finally, reluctantly, allowed the awaited day to arrive.


	20. The Wedding

**Yes! I've finally reached the wedding! It's kind of sad how excited I am about this. But I have been looking forward to it for a long time. Hope you like!**

* * *

The dress she chose was a beautiful dark green like leaves hiding from the sunlight. Sleeveless, it flowed down to her ankles like waves of silken fabric. With an open back and glittering skirts, Persephone felt she looked more like a queen than ever before. Yet that did not bother her. She appraised the work of her Shade servants, who were surprisingly good with hair. Her red wavy tresses were wrapped around her head and fastened with pins. The sandals on her feet were light and soft, and her heart did not pound quite as hard at the thought of belonging to Hades as it had while she failed to sleep during the silent hours which should have been called night.

The colour of the dress was oddly reminiscent of the green and blue garb Persephone had usually worn as the daughter of Demeter, bringing on a wave of regret. Had her mother come to terms with her absence yet? Was she still searching? Whatever the answer, there were more pressing worries on her mind. After all, it was her wedding day. Turning to the Shade guards waiting to escort her to the chosen place, she attempted a wan smile.

"After you," she said.

The palace was full of watching eyes. It appeared that everything which walked, crawled, flew or trotted in the Underworld had come to witness this historic event. Persephone tried to pretend she felt like a queen, and smiled at many of them. Her mother, when greeting her servants and mortal supplicants, had always cast her kind divine gaze upon them. Few smiles were returned, but then, no-one smiled much in the Underworld.

In a part of the palace she did not recall seeing before, Persephone was led towards the sound of running water. An area of courtyard opened out, with a waterfall flowing serenely between black columns of stone. Two rivers, the Lethe and the Styx, joined just before this, both supplying the oddly lifeless water feature. In front of her were gathered many deities she recognised, many she didn't, and then Hades, standing waiting in a raised grey pavilion before the place where the waters of the Styx and Lethe met. Persephone was resigned to this fate; this inexorable fate that had been chosen for her.

So she started walking the path through the crowd towards Hades, and every new step brought her closer to being his forever.

The Underworld's attention focused in on her. She saw red and black irises in the gloom of torchlight, and the glint of claws and pale flesh obscured in dark clothing. Right before the waterfall was Thanatos. He was dressed in awful purple robes which only accentuated his wide girth. Hades, on the other hand, was a vision of dark strength; cloaked in black with gold trim and an embossed belt. He wore a crown of gold like bones meshed together, and Persephone found herself mesmerised. Yet Hades was responsible for her loss of childhood. He had stolen her away and begun all the madness of the past five days. The madness had been because he loved and wanted her more than anything, and because he had been strong enough to stand up to Demeter and fulfil his wish. And now she was trapped in his gaze, feeling freer than ever before.

Last step took her to his side, and slipping her hand into his, they faced the waterfall. Thanatos cleared his throat, clutching a dusty scroll. He read out some piece of scripture she knew she would never remember. The world faded out, until all that remained was Hades' firm grip on her hand, daring her to run, daring her to try to prevent the ceremony. Perhaps some part of her still felt like fleeing, but that part was so small that she did not consider acting on the instinct.

Servants came forward, one holding a diadem of gold, matching the one on Hades' head. Persephone bowed her head and allowed this to be placed on her twisted red hair. The new weight was not uncomfortable. Then Thanatos presented Hades with a crystal chalice full of silvery water from the Styx, and god and goddess stood facing each other over a short expanse of the still, dead air. Hades' eyes did not leave hers.

"By my immortal soul," he said in his deep tenor, "I, Hades, Lord of the Underworld and brother of Zeus, take this goddess as my wife for all eternity."

Without hesitation, he tipped the liquid past his lips and swallowed. Water from the Styx was binding, the most powerful and irreversible seal for an oath. Once a person swore by this water, there was no breaking their word without forsaking their soul.

The chalice was passed to Persephone.

Eyes were on her, ears seeking her reply.

Hades' stony expression challenged her to protest.

"By my immortal soul," Persephone began, feeling her heart pound fast as she gave up a chance at liberty she had never known. "I, Persephone, Goddess of Spring and daughter of Demeter, take this god as my husband…" She paused, lifting the chalice to her mouth.

"…for all eternity," she finished, and gulped in a mouthful of water. No going back. Her fate was sealed and Hades' eyes, if not the rest of his face, practically shone with delight as she swallowed. The Styx tasted cold.

Thanatos' oily voice continued professing the eternal nature of this binding agreement, but Persephone was barely paying attention. With little more than a final flourish of words from the God of Death and rising applause from the crowd, she was the Queen of the Underworld. Hades leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips, making her shudder with a fierce wave of nerves. Then, joined as husband and wife by law, Hades and Persephone passed through the watchers and entered the palace once more.

* * *

An ironic amount of life had entered the throne room of Hades' palace. Although, since the newest resident of the palace was a Goddess of Life, the change made sense.

Music, like smoke in a cemetery, drifted from ceiling to floor, undulating and striking unusual chords. Its haunting melodies were strummed, piped and beat by nearly invisible Shades, and the guests to the wedding swayed and gyrated to the sound. The room was full of flickering flame lights and the sound of a thousand voices talking and cackling. Food covered banquet tables along the sides of the room, golden plates and goblets winked and glistening fat from the ribs of a bear dripped as one of the gods sliced off a portion. A drunk Eris began to sing at one point, but was quickly silenced by her siblings for creating such a din. Sitting on their thrones side by side, Hades and Persephone did not dance. Hades would not make such a spectacle of himself, and his wife was happy to remain by his side, sipping Overworld wine from a glass.

One by one, the Underworld residents came forward to pay homage to the new Queen of the Underworld. They presented gifts of jewels, enchanted horses and gowns to her, praising Hades' good taste in choosing her as his consort. She thanked each one with grace, feeling Hades' pleasure radiate from him like heat. Her sculpted throne was like tree bark, and grew leaves and little yellow flowers. Having accepted her place there, it felt simple. Glancing at Hades while he spoke to Thanatos, she allowed herself to be happy. She was the opposite and corresponding part of the Lord of the Underworld; his counterpart and conscience.

After a short time, Hecate came forward. Persephone tensed, at first nervous that she intended to tell Hades about the prophecy. But, to her enormous surprise, the Goddess of Witchcraft fell to her knees and kissed her sandaled foot.

"I apologise for giving offence, my queen," Hecate said. "I had no right to act as I did before."

Hades looked daggers at his underling, wondering exactly what the witch had done to offend Persephone.

"No harm was done, Hecate," the Queen of the Underworld said, gesturing for her to rise. It must have taken great courage to risk angering Hades in order to apologise, and she could sense this apology had taken much bravery.

"You are most gracious, my lady," Hecate thanked her, glancing nervously at Hades with anxious dark blue eyes. "I pledge my loyalty to you."

Presenting Persephone with an ornate slate knife, Hecate beat a hasty retreat back into the gathered party. As she admired the smooth edge of the blade, Hades looked suspiciously at his new wife.

"How did she give offence?" he inquired, failing to sound casual. Persephone shrugged and put on a smile that he could tell was false.

"She didn't. It does not matter."

Hades reached over and took her hand.

"It does matter if she upset you," he promised. "I will personally have her flogged for ten years."

Her emerald eyes widened in horror.

"Do not, please," she begged him. "Hecate didn't mean any harm."

Hades could tell she was hiding something, and it irritated him. But a flash of colour at the bottom of the steps up to the thrones caught his attention and he rose to his feet. There, tan-skinned and sticking out like a sore thumb, was Hestia. Forgetting abruptly that he was annoyed with the witch, he strode down and bowed to her. Hestia grinned and tucked a lock of mousy hair behind her ear. She was dressed in a creamy gown and held a heaped tray of fruit.

"This, my love," he said to Persephone, "is Hestia, my beloved sister."

Persephone awkwardly rose as well, and the two goddesses curtsied.

"It is a pleasure to finally talk to you," said his queen.

Hestia, true to form, snorted with kind amusement.

"No enormous pleasure, I'm sure," she admitted self-deprecatingly. "And I must be getting back to the surface soon, for reasons your husband knows and seems reluctant to share, even with those he claims to hold dear."

Hestia glanced at the Lord of the Underworld with a pointed look and he grimaced inside. The last thing he needed right then was Hestia revealing the truth of Demeter's grief to his new wife.

"Do not pester my queen with your trivialities, Hestia," he told her, shooting a glare of warning.

"You are such a charmer, Hades, do you know that?" Hestia laughed, passing the tray of fruit to Persephone. "No wonder this girl fell into your arms.

"Enjoy the dancing," Hades said warmly to his sister. "I will speak to you later."

Persephone, having missed the signs that information was being concealed from her, popped a grape into her mouth and felt its fresh sweetness on her tongue. It tasted of home. She wondered how Hestia had managed to carry it all the way here from the surface.

"I hope you do," Hestia was saying to Hades. "I see your odious friend Thanatos is eyeing me up."

Looking down the hall, Persephone saw that, yes, Thanatos was staring at Hestia from next to a column, his slimy expression very intent.

"Should I make him stop?" Hades asked, glaring menacingly at his advisor. Persephone covered a grin as Thanatos realised he was being discussed and slunk into the shadows.

"Absolutely not! Have you any idea how long it's been since a god showed an interest in this?" Hestia exclaimed, gesturing to herself. "Even if it is Thanatos." Here she turned to Persephone, smiling genuinely. "Sweet girl, I am relieved to see that you are a willing participant in this," she told the Goddess of Spring. "I feared this was one of Hades' more nefarious tricks, and that you were being coerced in some way. Enjoy what happiness you may be granted."

Interesting woman, thought Persephone as Hestia descended the steps. Presently, the God of Death approached her with an oily smile, clearly asking her for a dance. The Goddess of the Hearth seemed to consent.

"What are you thinking?" Hades asked her conversationally as they sat once more.

"I find it hard to understand how you are friends," Persephone wondered aloud. "She is warm and caring, a lover of all the goodness in the world, and you are…"

"Not."

Persephone nodded.

"Yes," she said, musing. "Hestia seems just as out of place here as I do, but she doesn't appear to care."

"She is the Goddess of the Hearth," Hades explained, taking a mouthful of nectar. "A gathering is a gathering, as far as she is concerned, whether in her temple, a mortal home, Olympus or here."

"But is she not afraid?" Persephone persisted.

"Why should she be? She is a powerful goddess and she carries a piece of the Golden Elm like the one I gave you as a child. Nothing in my realm would dare touch her."

Looking down the hall, Persephone could not help feeling hysterical laughter bubbling up.

"Except perhaps Thanatos," she added.

That earned her a twist in his upper lip, the closest he usually came to laughing in public. Hestia was clearly being propositioned by Thanatos, judging from the disgusted look on her face. The Goddess of the Hearth raised her callused hands and tossed orange sparks in his face, much to the amusement of the other Underworld deities. Persephone giggled, her head thrumming with the subtle warmth of wine.


	21. Trust

The Underworld's celebrating drew to a climax with the setting off of a fiery column in the mountains next to the palace. By then the dancing was still energetic, but several guests were starting to slur their words and stagger from the power of drink.

Hades had drank only one glass of wine, and was in full possession of himself. Persephone, feeling the weight of his gaze on her, had taken at least three. With rosy flushed cheeks, she was truly beautiful under the glow of flames. Her crown glinted and those emerald eyes sparkled even brighter. Sensing the celebrations were about to start becoming more rowdy, and wanting to leave crowd control to his underlings, Hades decided quite abruptly it was about time he and his queen abandoned their guests. Besides, he had been looking forward to nothing else for days.

Rising to his feet, he clapped several times to gain the attention of the crowd. The Shades stopped playing music instantly, and such was Hades' authority that it barely took ten seconds for the throne room to fall quiet.

"My guests," the Lord of the Underworld announced, "the time for me to leave you has come. I thank you for your homage and loyalty in these unusual times, but for myself, this celebration is over. Do not end your revelries for my sake."

There ensued much clapping. Everyone and everything, however, knew what their king and new queen leaving the party meant. Crowing and shouting from the gathered Underworld creatures rose up as a bawdy undertone to the applause. Hades turned to Persephone, who was blushing in embarrassment. She avoided his desirous gaze as she slipped her delicate hand in his and allowed him to lead her down the steps, past the cackling, invasive faces of the crowd. Hades radiated an almost uncontained, invisible excitement.

Persephone had been both dreading and anticipating this moment for hours. It had been because of this approaching inevitability that she had drowned some of her nerves in wine. However, it was not enough to render her fears any less strong as they ascended the stairs.

Without a word, Hades lifted her into his arms as if she weighed no more than a rag doll. She met his intense eyes with determination not to be afraid. They reached his chambers far too soon.

The room was far more lavish than her own, with dark curtains framing a balcony and candles gleaming in the corners. Swords hung from the walls and in a quick glance around, Persephone noticed a suit of armour composed of pure gold and several shelves of leather-bound books. The four-poster bed stood almost like a threat in the centre of the far wall. Black gossamer curtains hung from the ceiling around it, and the candles were concentrated around it. She briefly wondered who had prepared the candles in such a way, and then decided she would rather not know.

Hades' forehead pressed to hers as he kicked the door shut and carried her across the room. His breath caressed her lips, and Persephone felt her heart start to beat like the drums downstairs, just out of earshot. She felt entirely out of her depth here; alone and defenceless against the sheer power of Hades' obsessive love. Demeter had always been very strict in keeping only maiden nymphs and dryads around her daughter, and treated any questions about sex like questions about evildoing. Poor Persephone was therefore left utterly clueless about what Hades wanted from her, and she feared it.

"I…" she stammered nervously. "I've never done any…anything like this before."

"I know," he said, chuckling in that unique way of his. "Don't worry, my love, I would never hurt you."

Even now, she was uncertain if she honestly believed that. Knowing the Lord of the Underworld as she did, she felt certain he would say anything to get what he wanted.

"But how do…" Persephone continued, unsure how to phrase the question. "How does one…"

The cool press of his kiss cut off her words. Heat flooded her skin. Somewhere beyond the limits of her focus, they had reached the ominous bed. She felt the sheets beneath her and the press of his body over hers. Hades' kiss absorbed all else. Her crown went tumbling from her head with a metallic clang onto the stone floor, and his was in turn discarded with a careless toss. The demanding force of his lips absorbed all her ability to resist. Either wine or fear clouded her perception.

"Don't speak," Hades whispered in her ear, his fingers stroking and tangling in her crimson hair, tugging it loose of its pins. "Just trust me, Persephone," he told her.

The way he said her name was like a spell, as if he could gain her heart simply by wrapping words around her. Cold hands hungrily sought the ties of her gown and she controlled her fear, focusing only on the new sensations flooding her mind. Every brush of his touch seemed to crave more. Suddenly, she was equally afraid of being lost in the endless, relentless fire of Hades' love as she was of actually being with him. He was seizing control of her shyness, not even doubting for a moment that this was all he wanted in the universe. They filled each other's senses, basking in desire.

Persephone felt clumsy and unbearably shy as he slipped her gown off. Hades looked on her with an intense, intoxicated determination, whispering in a thousand million ways that she was beautiful. In return, she admired the understated power in his bare torso, lined with distinct muscles. The feeling of his pale skin on hers, at first uncomfortable, started to feel almost natural. She was drowning in his adoration, allowing him to take control because he had stolen her ability to fight him with something stronger than force. The dusty smell of his hair and the cool taste of his mouth were all she knew. Hades was irrevocably absorbed by the warmth and divine perfection of her slender body. Persephone was his now, and that, he was sure, would not change from this hour. There was an undeniable madness in how he took her, much more potent than the madness which had driven him to steal her from Demeter's garden, but tainted with the growing love that he knew was more real than ever before.

Downstairs, revelries went on for hours longer. Music rippled, light skipped and twirled, shadows leapt like monsters until even the immortals grew tired and dispersed back to their lairs. Outside, as the celebrations waned, an oddly shaped god trailed after a mousy goddess into the darkness where she ran laughing and singing his name. And there lies a tale which is too appalling for words to tell.


	22. Revealed Lies

Time means nothing to the gods.

Because of this, they often indulge themselves, allowing themselves to grow accustomed to sleep and good food.

Tenderly, Hades ran his hand over his wife's naked belly, wanting to carve into his memory the sensation of every inch of her skin before she woke. Dark red hair was splashed like sweet wine over his chest, her head resting in the crook of his arm. It felt like a great blessing that such beauty should be his forever. Except he was a god, and he was supposed to give blessings, not receive them. Persephone's wondrous emerald eyes opened to meet his, bleary and at first unfocused. Then she smiled wanly.

"My queen," he muttered softly.

Persephone gazed into her husband's dark expression, her mind full of new memories that had yet to find a place of storage. The touch of his hands, still on her bed-warm skin, brought back recollection of the passionate way their bodies had been joined mere hours ago. A sense of something final and wonderful had descended over her. It was as if she had died, and been reborn in the space of a week, yet that did not bother her.

"Good morning, Hades," she breathed, laughing internally because just a week ago the idea of waking up in bed with the Lord of the Underworld would have seemed utterly preposterous.

Hades leaned down and black hair flopped over one of his eyes in a dishevelled way that was almost comical.

"There is no morning here," he reminded her gently. "But it is a good day. Never have such beautiful eyes greeted me on waking."

Golden truthfulness resided in Persephone's smile.

"Glad they could please you," she replied.

"Everything about you pleases me."

Hades pressed his lips to hers, bringing back the waves of fire they had been drowning in hours before. Staying in bed with her a while longer was highly tempting, Hades thought with regret, but he had to ready himself for work. He was not the type of person to abandon his sworn duties for stolen pleasure, and recently he had been neglecting many important issues for the sake of his wedding.

"I have to go down," he told her sadly.

"Oh," she sighed. "I suppose you must, then."

Hades disentangled himself from her embrace, slipped from the covers and with regal grace strode to a wardrobe across the room. Persephone reclined languidly for a while, watching him dress with fascinated intent. He regarded her as she flopped across the sheets with a sigh, glad that she was so relaxed.

"I'll see you later, my queen," he told her, fastening his sword belt around his waist.

For a moment he hesitated between Persephone and the door, before walking over and kissing her lingeringly.

"I love you," he whispered.

Persephone stroked the edge of her lips when he was gone. A girlish giggle came from her throat, and a harsh sense of freedom had filled her soul. Was this where she belonged? In the dark, hidden from life, hidden from light, but glowing under the fire of Hades' love?

Dressed and invigorated, Persephone floated slowly down the sweeping staircase from Hades' bedroom. The halls were just as cavernous as ever, and she ran her warm fingers over the cold stone railings, knowing everything was just the same as the day before. Yet everything was changed. She was Queen of all in this bleak, dark universe.

Underworld gods and goddesses were gathered in the dining hall, devouring fruits and various leftovers, looking tousled and worn out. Whatever they got up to the night before, it must have been energetic. They rose from their seats, or in the case of one god, floated down from the ceiling to bow and curtsey.

"Our lady," Eris crooned, gesturing sadly to her.

Persephone inclined her head politely and asked where Hades was.

"Hades received a…guest," hissed Momus with a curled lip. "He is in the throne room as we speak."

"Thank you," Persephone replied, and her skirts swished over the tiles as she headed in that direction.

The throne room had, impressively, already been cleaned from the previous night's revelries. No evidence of rowdy celebrations remained on the tiles and ceiling. The braziers were burning as always, and standing before Hades was Hermes, informing the Lord of the Underworld for the third time that the world was dying from Demeter's rage and misery. His voice was loud and insistent, rage coating every word he spat.

Persephone made no attempt to sneak into the hall, and nobody stopped her. There was only her husband and the Messenger of the Gods; no other around. But she froze in the doorway before emerging as Hermes' message assaulted her ears.

"My mother has done what?" she said.

Both gods raised heads to realise her presence. Hades, outlined by a dark banner behind his throne, rose.

"Persephone!" Hermes exclaimed joyfully, taking a step towards her. He had feared that she would be beaten and abused, but she looked fine. Better than fine.

"Persephone, this doesn't concern you," Hades stated levelly.

The Queen came into the hall, frowning, not wishing to believe what she was certain she had heard.

"It sounds like it concerns me!" she pointed out.

"You didn't tell her?" Hermes guessed, earning himself a vicious look from Hades.

"Persephone," the Lord of the Underworld explained, "your mother has been causing trouble above ground."

"Trouble?" Hermes laughed grimly. "Trouble?! The world is dying and you call it trouble? Zeus demands that you release Persephone, Lord Hades, and I can assure you, all the wrath of Olympus will fall on the Underworld if you refuse again."

Persephone stared between them. Demeter had caused death and destruction in the Overworld? No. It could not be. This was some cruel trick. Awfully, she caught sight of the guilt in Hades expression. He had known all along and not said a word to her.

"Curses on all of Olympus!" Hades roared. "I will take her to Zeus, then."

"Hold on!" Persephone said angrily before Hermes could open his mouth. "How dare you not tell me what was happening at my mother's hands?"

Hades met her anger with stony coldness.

"Would you have agreed to marry me if I had told you?" he asked.

"Yes!"

"Don't lie to me, Persephone," he glared. "You would have demanded to return to the surface. Any attempt at winning you would have been utterly futile."

"That doesn't matter!" the Goddess of Spring shouted, coming up the steps to her husband. "How dare you claim to love me and then lie to me like this?"

"I never lied to you. You never asked."

"Not saying something is as bad as lying!"

Most other people would have been cowed by the sheer power of Hades' threatening glare, and Hermes' eyes were wider than saucers as he admired Persephone's bravery.

"Would you rather be back with Demeter now?" Hades shouted at her, "Chained in that garden of yours where she kept you her prisoner? Is that all your promise meant? Tell me now with all honesty that you would prefer her imprisonment to my love! Tell me!"

Persephone said nothing for a moment. With desperate fury, Hades seized her shoulders and shook her.

"Tell me!" he demanded.

When she still did not answer, he sharply pulled her mouth to his and Persephone threw her arms around his neck. Her sandal-clad feet dangled inches from the ground as Hades clasped her close to him.

Hermes stared on, blinking once, attempting to refocus. But, amazingly, what he was seeing was true.

Hades released his wife then, and a look of understanding was exchanged between them. Persephone knew, unfortunately, that her heart belonged to him whether she liked it or not. And she was bound to existence by his side.

"We ride for Olympus," Hades announced. "Come, my love. Hermes, go before us and alert Zeus of our imminent arrival."


	23. Agreement

Demeter paced restlessly.

Utterly deranged, her hair was like a filthy mass of grey straw. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, and the feet she paced on were akin to bloody stumps, leaving crimson marks on the perfect white floors of Olympus. Her demented, panicked breathing resounded harshly as the gathered onlookers mumbled and waited. Zeus sat impatiently on his throne, wearing a fur cloak because of the cold permeating from the outside human world. The court of Olympians were all dressed similarly, unused to having to endure anything less than perfect temperature. The King of the Gods was eager to have this ridiculous series of events brought to its rightful conclusion.

Presently, Ganymede, Zeus' cupbearer, came rushing into the throne room.

"Your highness, they have arrived."

Demeter's hunched back straightened, and the court craned their necks.

Hades and Persephone entered Olympus for the first time together.

She was more nervous than she had ever been before, but Hades had his hand wrapped possessively around her arm, and the pressure kept her grounded in practicality. She squinted, understanding what Hades meant now when he talked about the sudden, hurting brightness of Olympus. All eyes were on her, but she sought the only pair that actually mattered. Demeter, hysterical, grabbed her daughter and pulled her away from Hades.

"My darling!" came her cry. "Are you injured, my sweet? Are you okay?"

"Yes, mother, I'm fine," Persephone smiled, her heart bursting with delight as Demeter folded her into a warm embrace.

As the court watched, the Goddess of Agriculture returned to herself, hair exploding into its former golden sheen, face losing its wrinkled appearance and her eyes shining with motherly devotion. But, quickly, it became apparent that her rage was by no means lessened.

"YOU!" she yelled, rounding suddenly on the Lord of the Underworld, who had been smugly wearing Persephone like a prize. "You shall wish you were never born, Hades! I will rip your eyes out for looking at her! I will tear off your skin and burn it in a furnace for hurting my daughter! You will rue the day that you took her from me!"

"SILENCE! Control yourselves, please," Zeus boomed from his throne.

Hera, by his side, muttered something sarcastic about certain people never being able to control themselves. Several sympathetic members of the court tittered quietly. Zeus shot his wife a warning look which she met solidly.

"Shut your mouth, woman," he glowered, then turning his attention back to his feuding siblings. "Hades, Demeter," he said to each, "I have summoned you here so we can finally have an end to this ludicrous dispute. I'm going to make this very simple. Demeter, attend to your duties as a goddess. Hades, you've had your fun with her; give Persephone back to her mother."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, brother," Hades announced confidently.

Zeus planted his bearded face into his hand for a moment. Of course, nothing was ever that simple.

"Why not?" he sighed deeply.

"As of yesterday," Hades told the entire court. "Persephone is my wife."

The court gasped in a mixture of disapproval and surprise.

"And not only was the ceremony performed with all binding requirements," Hades continued, almost arrogant in his self-assurance, "but Persephone has also consumed six pomegranate seeds from the Underworld, and therefore is bound there, as I am, by law."

Demeter placed herself strategically between Hades and her daughter, fiercely glaring at him in the hope that her gaze burned holes through his pale face.

"Why you sneaking, repulsive little…"

"I said silence, Demeter," Zeus commanded, cutting off an undoubtedly colourful stream of insults. "Persephone," he said softer, "can you confirm this?"

The Goddess of Spring felt all eyes on her, and her chest was pounding like a thousand drums. But somewhere within, she found courage, and stepped away from her mother's protective presence.

"…Yes, my lord," she said to Zeus. "What he says is the truth."

The court muttered again, glancing at each other and at Persephone, dressed in the dark garb of the Underworld. She looked like a fit consort for the Lord of the Dead.

"Has this marriage been consummated?" Hera asked snidely, looking pointedly at Demeter with a smirk.

Persephone blushed, knowing what everyone in the hall would surely be envisioning.

"…Yes," she admitted hesitantly.

More gasps filled the throne room, accentuated by Demeter's cry of horror. The Olympians started talking fast, pointing and enunciating vividly. Zeus was stony-faced, unamused by any of this.

"Show some respect and stay your tongues!" Apollo shouted over the din.

Demeter stepped towards Hades, fury filling every divine pore in her body. Her hands shone with earth magic, and Hades adopted an imposing stance in response to the threat in his sister's face.

"I will make you pay, Hades!" Demeter roared. "You will wish you had not glanced at..."

Persephone stepped in front of her husband without thinking, stopping her mother in her tracks.

"I married him of my own accord, mother!" the Goddess of Spring declared. "And I ate the seeds of my own accord! I am the Queen of the Underworld, and nothing you do can change that!"

She was only half lying.

"Looks like the goddess of spring has grown a pair since last we met," Aphrodite muttered amidst the stunned silence.

Poor Demeter's hands shook, beyond reason. In her mind, there was no sane way of accepting that Persephone was no longer hers to own.

"She doesn't know what she's saying!" the Goddess of Agriculture said desperately. "Obviously he has her under some kind of dark enchantment! Hecate or some other enchantress has cast a spell on her!"

So, in accordance with expectations, Zeus called forth Themis, the Goddess of Divine Law and Order. The Titan goddess held a set of bronze scales in front of Persephone, muttering words of enchantment. After a moment, the scales did not tip, and Themis turned back to Zeus, shaking her wise head.

"There is no enchantment."

Still, Demeter did not listen.

"I will not allow this," she screamed. "If I cannot have my daughter back I will kill everything that exists! Don't think I'm bluffing, Zeus!"

Zeus, getting highly impatient with this whole issue, rose to his feet regally and cleared his throat. The rest of the court rose as well, interested to hear the fate of the Goddess of Spring. Persephone, feeling entire snakes roil in her stomach, waited for her father's decision.

"There's nothing else for it, then," the King of the Gods decreed. "Persephone will spend half the year with you, Demeter, and half the year with Hades. In return, Hades, you will steal no more of my daughters, and Demeter, you will bring back the good weather."

After a second, the throne room erupted with clamouring noise. This decision appeared to please nobody. Both Demeter and Hades approached the throne at once with great anger.

"She is my wife!" the Lord of the Underworld roared, unusually for his self-controlled character. "Shall I be forced out of her company for half a year?"

"This is cruel even for you, Zeus!" Demeter wailed. "To let this monster have my flower for six months!"

But Zeus' decree would not be changed. He roared something irritable at his siblings, then turned on his heel and strode pompously from the throne room without a second glance. Persephone, the only one not saying a word now, just stood tied in place as her fate was decided for her. And what a fate it was; to be forever torn between two worlds, in each knowing only half a life.

She let out a breath she did not know she had been holding, and allowed her head to spin with countless colours and memories, each one now to be cherished and kept in her soul.


	24. Until Then

**My story is reaching its conclusion, and I just want to make you all feel really sad about that, so here goes...**

* * *

The cold retreated like a tired warrior, with the deathly promise of returning in the future. Snow melted in rivers of relief, and people emerged from their hastily constructed shelters to stare at the sky and praise the gods for sparing them from starvation and frost. The earth breathed again, and warmth covered the land in hopeful joy, because Demeter had relinquished her barrage of anger and worry. Under the sharp eyes of the Olympians, and with her hands raised over the land from a balcony in Olympus, she brought back the light of summer.

Not far away, at the edge of Olympus and under the shadow of marble columns, Hades and Persephone said goodbye. After great argument, Demeter had been allowed custody of Persephone for the first six months, and although it went against everything he desired, Hades had agreed. The Goddess of Spring now tried to memorise Hades' cool skin, strong grasp and familiar dusty smell as he ran his cold fingers through her hair. For a precious stolen moment, nothing else existed except for each other, because this was their last moment as one for many months. Love had caught the Lord of the Underworld by surprise, and now he wished partially that it would leave him in peace. However, Persephone pressed her cheek into his chest and he changed his mind instantly.

"Do not cry for us, my love," the Lord of the Underworld murmured, his breath tickling the top of Persephone's head. "I would wait a thousand years for one fleeting kiss from your sweet lips."

"I suppose it doesn't hurt me now to admit that I'll miss you," she sighed.

"Those simple words will keep me sane until I can hold you again," Hades whispered.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Demeter appear and move towards them. Their previously cool relationship would probably never return to its former state, he mused as the Goddess of Agriculture shot him a look of true disgust. Feeling the need to prove something to her, he gently pulled Persephone's unresisting lips to his and kissed her deeply.

"Enough of that," Demeter snapped. "Come, Persephone. We're going home so you can change out of that hideous dress."

When her daughter made no effort to cut short that precious embrace, Demeter folded her arms haughtily.

"Persephone!" she snapped again.

"Coming, mother."

With a last regretful hesitation, gazing into the depths of her husband's dark eyes, the Goddess of Spring drew away from Hades and back to her mother's possessive clutches. The Lord of the Dead watched her go, feeling more pain in his chest than he could have imagined possible. Although it would never have shown in his face, his eyes radiated a more powerful agony than he could bear.

"And Hades," Demeter added over her shoulder as both goddesses boarded their ornate flying chariot. "If you come within twenty miles of my land ever again, I will flay you."

"Understood, Demeter," he replied coldly.

The chariot pulled away, and under the waking sun, he knew his heart was being torturously ripped open out of his control. Persephone's beauty and kind innocent light was stolen from him in moments. Unable to bear watching her draw further and further away, he swallowed the pain and vanished in a burst of shadow. Weakness was for lesser gods, and he longed not to feel so weak from love.

Olympus grew smaller and smaller to the Goddess of Spring, and she turned to watch it fade, wishing to catch a final glance of Hades' dark form. Futilely, she searched the blaring white of the columns and statues.

But he was gone.


	25. Epilogue

**The last chapter - kind of bittersweet I guess.**

* * *

Six months is a mere blink in the lives of the gods.

Once Hades had thought time meant nothing. Now, six months would make up the measure of his happiness. For half of immortality, he would live and breathe with joy, and the other half he would return to the grey monotony of his previous existence. Cursed, he would think in the darkest moments – he was cursed to a half-life. Every slowly passing day, he tormented himself with glimpses of his beloved by courtesy of Hecate's magic. From time to time he watched the suffering of the souls and wondered what they knew of pain. What did they know of agony when they were dead and released? Eventually they would return to dust, while he was forced to live on in a cursed half-eternity of stolen shards of joy.

Dark brooding was not new for Hades. To the enormous relief of his underlings, their Lord had returned to an approximation of his usual self. He held court, oversaw the judgement of the dead and managed his realm as he always had. Things returned to normal, which was how the Underworld liked things to be. Perhaps he was unnecessarily cruel from time to time, and ate very little, but outwardly he exuded the confidence and dark power that was recognised by all as normality. Yet those who had the dubious honour of truly knowing Hades could see the cracks in his expression, the wistful, far away glaze of his black eyes and knew that he longed for the day when Persephone would take her place in the empty throne by his side.

In a very separate universe, Persephone could not return to what had once been normal. How could she, when all around her was the same but what lay in her soul was changed forever? Her mother had tried to pretend that all was the same for the months they were together, and for Demeter's sake the Goddess of Spring allowed her mother to delude herself into believing it was so. Neither goddess mentioned Hades, or Olympus, or anything that would remind Demeter that Persephone was married and would eventually leave her mother again.

"Dance with me, my flower," Demeter would ask, and Persephone would laugh and skip and smile sweetly to pan pipes.

The brightness and vibrancy returned to the gardens in the presence of Persephone's life force. The Goddess of Spring flourished in her rightful place in the world, truly happy to be in the sunlight and to enjoy the simple things that were denied in the Underworld. She glowed while rediscovering the chattering of birds, the strength of the wind, the gentle murmur of a stream, and the infinite wonder of life with all its miracles and cruelties. Every moment was beautiful. A weaker goddess would have wept at being so torn between lives, but Persephone had instead gained a new appreciation for every second of her immortality. Whether with the mother who held her tight and promised to keep her a child forever, or with the husband whose obsessive adoration fuelled her desire for danger and excitement, she would be alive. And time meant everything.

Each month Persephone would write a letter to Hades, renewing a promise of all her heart and soul, encasing the message in an enchanted red rose. This she set in the stream, which carried it many miles until, at a certain point, it met the River Acheron. From there her message was carried deep underground and picked up by Underworld gatekeepers, who delivered it with haste to Hades' palace. The Lord of the Underworld treated every message as priceless, reading and re-reading each one until he knew every word backwards. As the awaited day drew near, he ordered that green banners be hung in the halls. Flowers from Persephone's grove were tended and placed at the foot of her throne, which Hades would often gaze on when he was sure no-one else was watching.

The days were full of events, yet each drew on forever without end for him. Even though he had waited four thousand years for her, those six months had been far too long.

One anxious, chilly autumn day, right outside a nameless cave entrance in Italy, gathered a group of dark creatures. The summer had been especially long, but the autumn had come as this day had drawn near. Demeter's sadness was slowly beginning to show in the world again. The pattern of the seasons, it seemed, would never be the same again.

Three centaurs, a group of gorgons, Thanatos and Hades awaited the return of the Queen. Although his expression would never belie the flaming of his soul, Hades could barely contain the anticipation within at the prospect of holding Persephone once more. The breath of the Overworld slapped against his cheek and ruffled his greasy dark hair, brushed for the occasion.

"My lord…"

Thanatos' invasive slimy voice made the Lord of the Underworld tear his gaze from the crest of the grassy hill he had been watching for over an hour.

"Yes, Thanatos?" he replied impatiently.

"I've been wondering," came the inevitable request. "Would you ever consider inviting the Goddess Hestia to the palace again? It is only, I believe we started something while she was here at your wedding, and I would deeply enjoy continuing what was started."

Truly disgusted, Hades reigned in his irritation. Hestia's reasons for leading Thanatos on during his wedding celebrations was beyond his understanding. She deserved better. Yet, Persephone probably deserved better, he thought, and he was not about to even consider giving her up.

"Hestia is very busy," Hades said shortly.

"Yes, of course she is," Thanatos muttered, embarrassed and more than a little bit disappointed. "Forgive me, my lord. I did not think."

The God of Death slinked back towards the comforting shade provided by a rocky overhang. Underworld creatures do not tolerate the brightness of the Overworld for long. Living things and light disgust them beyond measure. Hades, however, was born in the Overworld, despite having grown accustomed to the realm of the dead. Perhaps that was why he chose his consort from among the living, although nothing about his infatuation with Persephone had ever made sense.

Just then, a horn sounded from beyond the rise.

Hades tensed, full of anticipation but loathe to show it. The centaurs snorted and pawed the soil.

The Queen of the Underworld rode over the hill on the back of a regal white mare, flanked by attendants and her mother. Her red hair spiralled down her back in shining curls, and her face was bright and glowing with light and joy. A blue dress, the colour of the sky, hung loosely from her shoulders, and trailed on the grass alongside her horse's hooves. On seeing Hades and his entourage, a welcome wave of nervous love filled her belly. Nothing existed but the dark energy of his eyes, which had been missing from her gaze for too long. Until that moment, she had been unsure, but right then Persephone knew the truth.

Slipping from the saddle, not waiting for her attendants to speak or bid her farewell, the Goddess of Spring dashed to Hades and allowed him to sweep her into the saddle in front of him.

"I missed you," she whispered, and although he did not say a word, she felt relief radiate from him.

Demeter watched her daughter from a miserable distance as she whispered quietly to her husband and he cruelly stole her light away from the world again. The cold winds would blow, she decided harshly, until her precious daughter was returned to her. The world would mourn with her until Persephone returned in spring, and then rejoice and celebrate the return of warmth and life.

Neither Hades nor Persephone noticed Demeter's grief. He possessively wrapped her in his cloak, bringing his horse about to dive within the earth and away from the sickening light of the living. The sky turned grey, and rain threatened to fall, but neither of them noticed.

They were swallowed once more by the darkness, and Persephone closed her eyes, knowing she had no reason to fear.


End file.
